


I Would Be The One

by suchanadorer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Beauty and the Beast AU, Blood, Bloodplay, Canon Typical Violence, Choose Your Own Ending, F/M, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Season 5 AU, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-12
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-16 04:18:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 50,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/pseuds/suchanadorer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU based on Beauty and the Beast. Sam Winchester sacrifices his freedom to save his brother's life, but he doesn't know who he's offered his life to (and what he would ask of him) until it's too late. Lucifer is nothing like Sam expects, and he finds himself drawn to angel and demon alike, but not everyone is interested in seeing Sam's relationship with Lucifer grow.</p><p>Will Sam give Lucifer the one thing he asks of him, the one thing he might not be able to live without?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Can't Expect To See Him And Survive

In hindsight they should have known better. It’s never just a simple salt and burn anymore.

Sam takes a step and feels Dean’s shoulders against his back. He adjusts his grip on the shotgun in his hands and eyes the slowly approaching ring of demons around them. His breath forms a cloud in front of his face and he shakes his head as a rivulet of water runs down out of his hair into his eye. Rain pours down on all of them, and the drops hammering the branches and leaves seem impossibly loud in the dark woods. 

Dean grabs his attention with an elbow to the ribs. “What the hell did they say on the phone?”

“I don’t know. Bobby talked to ‘em.”

Dean groans. “Cas is in the wind and suddenly Bobby’s got a tip line? We walked into this one, didn’t we.”

It’s not a question, but Sam nods anyway, and knows that Dean senses it. He tightens his fingers on the trigger and leans forward slightly. 

“Why aren’t they attacking?” Sam snaps back over his shoulder.

“Hell if I know,” Dean replies.

“Something’s not right here.” Sam watches the demons watch him. They’re standing with hands on hips or arms folded across their chests, more intent on keeping them in place than on attacking them.

“Dude, can we do this later, when we’re not surrounded?” There’s a nervous edge to Dean’s voice under the exasperation. Sam’s not wrong. This has all the dressings of a trap, but they’re not dead yet.

“You ready?” Sam asks.

“Let’s do this,” Dean answers, and Sam’s stomach drops when he hears his own lack of confidence mirrored in his brother’s voice.

Dean’s shotgun might as well have been a starting pistol. The crack when he fires echoes loud in the woods and Sam moves forward even as the demons surge towards them both. Whatever had been holding them at bay seems forgotten. One grabs at the barrel of his gun and he fires, catches it in the stomach. He takes another down with a shot to the chest when it lunges at him. “It” is wearing the body of what looks like a soccer mom, but Sam pushes the thought out of his mind as he reaches into his pocket for two more shells.

His fingers are cold and clumsy in the wet but he manages to load the gun. The reassuring sound of Dean’s shotgun comes to him again from further away. He sees a flash in the corner of his eye but it’s followed by a strangled shout. All of the needles on Sam’s internal oh shit sensors shoot up into the red.

“Dean! You okay?” Sam calls out while he takes aim.

There’s no answer. Sam fired two more rounds and starts to move off to his left, where he thought he’d seen Dean.

Suddenly there are too many and Dean is still nowhere to be seen. He’s surrounded again, alone this time, but they’re not hurting him. He tries to force his way out but two of them grab his arms and hold him fast. Someone wrestles the gun out of his hands and throws it out of reach to land with a thud in the brush. Sam struggles and pushes but the demons are inhumanly strong, a mass of violent limbs in the dark. He cries out when one of them wrenches his arm up behind his back. Sweat and rain mix on his face and run stinging down into his eyes.

“Let him go,” says a voice through the darkness. There’s a calm authority there that sends a chill down Sam’s spine. The demons immediately back off, forming a tight half-circle behind Sam and confirming his suspicion that the voice belongs to some sort of leader. He rolls his shoulder and rubs at his eyes, whipping his head around to try to find the source of the voice. Panic starts to flutter in Sam’s chest when he realizes that Dean may have already found this guy.

“Nice of you boys to come to our party,” someone hisses behind him.

“Yeah, sorry we forgot to bring flowers,” he shoots back, taking a cautious step forward. The demons stay packed in around him but don’t touch him.

That’s when he sees Dean. A blur of brown leather jacket and blue jeans flies through the air, his back connecting with a tree hard enough to shake loose a flurry of colored leaves. He falls to the ground, heavy and limp, and Sam runs to him, dropping to his knees when he reaches Dean’s body. The demons move in around them but continue to hover rather than engage him.

Sam brushes a leaf off his brother’s face and is relieved to Dean’s eyelids fluttering. He’s still breathing, and his pulse is thready but constant.

Sam sucks in a shaky breath as a wave of cold air rolls over him. It’s suddenly much colder, the combination of chill and wet making a haze of fog form low to the ground. The air grows tense around him, weighted as if there is an approaching thunderstorm. Sam shivers with both cold and adrenaline-fueled fear. He turns slowly, keeping a hand on Dean’s chest. 

The demons that are crowded around Sam back off and go quiet, but it’s no longer the tense, menacing silence they’d held when they’d surrounded Sam and Dean. This is more cautious. Several of them are looking down at the ground, shuffling nervously, but most of them are at what Sam assumes is the demonic equivalent of attention, shoulders back and arms at their sides.

They’re looking off in the direction that Dean came from, and Sam follows their gaze. The demon that attacked Dean steps out of the fog and for a moment Sam is paralyzed when blue eyes as icy as the air meet his. Then the demon takes a step towards Sam and smiles and Sam’s fear tips over into a rage that’s powerful and focusing. He stands slowly, placing himself between it and his brother’s body.

“ _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas..._ ”

The demons wail and cry as Sam recites the ritual. He spits the words out, his lips curling into an ugly sneer as he stares down the demon coming for Dean.

“That won’t work on me, Sam,” it says, slowly advancing.

Sam is thrown for a moment when they demon says his name, but he takes a breath to steady himself and continues. Their leader keeps walking towards him, picking its way over the tortured demons as if they were fallen logs or dying animals.

One of the other demons grabs Sam by the leg, pulling at his jeans. He kicks hard in the face, sends it sprawling onto the ground where it writhes, sobbing.

“Save us,” a voice pleads from the mass of twitching, screaming bodies. Sam swears he sees the leader smirk and it makes something burn inside him. No honor among thieves.

He speaks faster, perfect Latin pronunciation rolling off his tongue. “ _Audi nos!_ ” he shouts, and plumes of black smoke shoot up around him, roiling in the air before they disappear, heading off in every possible direction.

Sam is staring at the demon approaching him with panic in his eyes. He’s seen demons that don’t smoke out after the ritual. There are brands and charms that can lock a demon in a body, but something’s different here, and he doesn’t know what it is, and that’s scary as hell. This thing didn’t even twitch.

“You won’t hurt him.” Sam stamps down the tremor in his voice as he spreads his arms, guarding Dean.

“He tried to shoot me,” the demon replies indignantly, gesturing towards his body. The scorched holes in the chest of the t-shirt are telltale signs of a shotgun blast, but there’s no blood and the demon clearly isn’t injured.

Sam’s gun is gone, he’s surrounded, and he’s alone but for his unconscious brother behind him. He has no way of escape and no way of protecting Dean. His best hope is that Dean’s injuries include a broken rib, meaning that maybe Castiel can find them out here in the middle of nowhere. Sam is sure that he is the only thing standing between Dean and certain death at the hands of this whatever it is that’s standing in front of him, regarding him with cool patience. 

“Move out of the way, Sam.”

Sam glances around for anything that might be able to help him, desperately trying to figure out a way to get Dean to safety until he wakes up. Then he remembers what the leader said to the other demons. It’s a very bad idea, but it’s the only card he has left to play.

“No,” Sam growls, looking up at the demon with certainty in his eyes.

The demon narrows its eyes. “Excuse me?” 

“You told them not to hurt me,” Sam says, pointing at the bodies lying strewn around them.

“And?” The demon tilts its head with a curiosity that looks almost innocent.

“The only way to him is through me.” Sam answers as if that’s all the information he needs to give. “Even now, if you wanted to kill him you could just throw me out of the way, but you haven’t.”

The demon gives him a considering look, and Sam’s confidence grows, albeit only slightly. It’s a long shot, but it just might work.

“If I agree to go with you, can you promise me he’ll be safe?”

The little shrug he receives as his only reply isn’t particularly comforting, but it’s also not a no and at this point Sam has no other choice. He’s made the offer.

“Me for Dean. He gets to go home and be safe, and I go with you.” The demon hesitates so Sam pushes a little further. “Please.”

Sam’s voice is barely more than a whisper, but something registers. A shadow of emotion passes over the demon’s face. It almost looks like relief.

“Close your eyes, Sam,” the demon says, and Sam reluctantly does, his breath coming in shallow bursts.

The smell of smoke in the wintertime reaches him and he shudders. He hears Dean stirring behind him, but when he turns his head to check on him two cold fingertips are pressed to his forehead. They send a shiver through him that goes deeper than the cold. All the coiled tension in the air seems to pull together to the two points where fingers brush Sam’s skin. Light flares behind his eyes and the last sound he hears is his brother moaning his name.

Sam doesn’t know how much time has passed when wakes with a groan, every muscle in his body stiff. He squeezes his eyes shut against a lingering headache, then sits up with a start when he recalls what happened. 

He swings his feet over the side of the bed and sits up. A quick inventory tells him that he’s not injured, but that he’s unarmed now, and his phone is gone. He sighs and pushes a hand through his hair, then stands and strides to the door. He rolls his shoulder, but any sign that it was injured last night is wiped away.

Sam tries the doorknob but it’s locked, so he pounds on it with his fists.

“Hey!” he shouts, pulling at the doorknob until the whole door rattles. “Let me the hell out of here! Help me! Help!” 

Sam hammers on the door until his knuckles come away raw and bloody. He kicks at it in frustration then turns and leans his back against it, sucking in deep breaths through his nose. Panic fights with rage until the back of his throat burns with it.

He presses his fist to his mouth and swallows repeatedly as he looks around the room. 

Daylight filters in through filthy, cracked windows blocked by heavy curtains moving slightly as the wind slips in through the broken panes. There is a small desk and chair off to one side, what appears to be a sofa under a drop cloth, and the bed that he was laying on when he woke up. The low ceiling is marked with exposed beams and everything is wood, like a log cabin.

Sam has no idea where he is, no idea how long he’s been there, and worst of all he has no idea what happened to his brother. Panic washes over him and he steps away from the door to sink back down onto the bed. His chest heaves and he flexes his bruised hand, letting the pain ground him.

He stands when the door swings open slowly. The light from the windows barely reaches out into the hall but he can still see the demon that took him standing in the doorway.

“How are you feeling, Sam?” he asks, stepping forward into the room.

Sam says nothing. His jaw tightens and his eyes cut to the side.

“I’m glad we can finally meet in person,” the demon continues, folding his hands in front of his stomach. 

“Is Dean safe?” Sam asks, open accusation on his face when he meets the demon’s eyes again. The calm Sam sees there serves only to aggravate him further.

The demon nods. “Yes, and so are you.”

Sam laughs humorlessly. “Yeah, you demons don’t seem like the delayed gratification type, so what am I doing here?”

“I’m not a demon,” he answers. The way he lifts his chin is almost haughty, as if he’s insulted. “I’m an angel. My name is Lucifer.”

“Lucifer?” Sam repeats in a harsh whisper. “As in Satan?”

“That’s not a name I prefer, but yes.”

Lucifer doesn’t look like any devil Sam ever imagined. He’s got short, unruly blonde hair and mud-flecked jeans that sag at the knees. He looks like he’d be more at home in a hardware store than on the throne in Pandemonium. In fact the only physical evidence of Hell that Sam can see on him is the way the skin on his forehead and cheekbones is inflamed and peeling like he’s been burned, but he carries himself like a king.

He’s not as tall as Sam but when he straightens his shoulders Sam swears he’s looking down at him. He’s being judged by arguably the most famous angel in history, and it terrifies him.

“Are you going to kill me?” Sam asks.

“I would never hurt you.” His voice is soft but insistent, like it’s important to him that Sam believes him.

“Then what do you want with me?” Sam shouts, as if to counterbalance Lucifer’s impenetrable calm. The situation is hopeless and frustrating and if he can’t leave then he’s sure as hell going to get an explanation. 

Lucifer frowns. He opens his hands and strolls forward towards Sam, who backs up further into the room.

“You’re my vessel, Sam.” Lucifer says the words slowly, watching Sam for his reaction. “My true vessel.” 

He smiles, and it’s all Sam can do to keep his knees from buckling under the weight of everything he agreed to in order to save his brother. He can’t talk; he can barely breathe, so he just shakes his head over and over.

“Yes,” Lucifer says.

Sam summons all the defiance he can find in his chest, pulling the strands together around his racing heart and gasping lungs. “If I’m your vessel, then why are you still standing there?” he challenges.

“I’m still an angel. I can’t take you as my vessel without your consent.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?” Sam grits his teeth and swallows hard, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. “That I won’t fall asleep later and you’ll just take me?”

Lucifer’s brows sink and his jaw goes slack for a moment. He looks almost wounded. “I would never lie to you,” he breathes out with a shake of his head. “I couldn’t. I don’t have to. It would be like lying to myself.” He steps forward again and Sam backs away, moving so that the couch is between them.

“You stay the hell away from me!” Sam shouts to hide the panic creeping into in his voice, but it does the trick. Lucifer stops, and this time there’s no mistaking the grief in his eyes as he looks at Sam. He lowers his hands and moves away, back towards the door.

“I’ve imagined this so many times, Sam,” he says, turning when he’s reached the other side of the room. “It was never supposed to be this way.” 

Lucifer pulls the door closed after him and Sam hears the lock click. He strides across the room and tries the doorknob anyway, pounding the flat of his hand against the door when it refuses to give. He swallows hard against the bile rising in his throat. The light switch by the door yields no result, either because the bulb is broken or because there’s no power in the room.

The door set into the far wall opens into a small bathroom occupied almost entirely by a claw foot tub. Sam frowns at his reflection in the mirror above the sink, rubbing at the stubble on his chin. He has dark circles under his eyes and when he looks down at his clothes he sees splashes of something dark on his shirt and jeans. He pushes his fingers through his hair and turns away from the mirror. The tap opens with a squeak when he turns the handle, and after a minute’s time the water is running both clear and warm. He takes the opportunity to splash water on his face and hands only to realize that there are no towels, so he struggles for a moment, blindly pulling off his flannel shirt to use it to dry his face.

He returns to the main room and shudders at the chill. He’s been running on adrenaline but it’s fading now and he’s feeling worn and shaky, and now that he’s alone he feels exhaustion creeping up on him.

Opening all the drawers in the desk he finds nothing more than stationary and an ancient phone book. He briefly considers the desk itself, but he has nothing to break it apart with other than his fists and feet. The fireplace at the far side of the room is made from big, uneven stones in various shades of grey and brown. He’s not even sure that it works when he lights a small fire with his Zippo. The meager supplies don’t seem enough to fill the room with smoke, but he’s still relieved when he sees embers floating slowly up into the chimney.

The room is already warmer when he tugs at the curtains to try to cover the broken windows. One slides more or less effortlessly, but the second sticks, and he gives up after doubling over in a coughing fit caused by the cloud of dust that he shakes loose.

More dust swirls up around him as he pulls the drop cloth off the sofa. Its sturdy wooden arms and back are covered with plush cushions in a vaguely Native American pattern. It’s in surprisingly good condition and he sinks down onto it, staring into the fire.


	2. One of Beauty's Daughters

_Lucifer’s vessel._ Sam rolls the idea around in his head while he watches the flames dance and twist up towards the chimney. It’s a feeble little fire that’s better at holding his attention than warming the room. 

Sam has some idea how vessels work. He’s asked Castiel about it, read a little in some of Bobby’s books. People aren’t chosen at random; lifetimes upon lifetimes lead them down the path, and he can only assume that the process is even more controlled and exact for an angel like Lucifer. He can also assume that they don’t walk away from the experience hale and hearty, especially after being used as an instrument to destroy all of mankind.

Sam’s done research on all kinds of monsters, but the information about Lucifer is on a completely different level. Thrown out of Heaven, ruling Hell and torturing human souls. There is no being in Creation that hates mankind more than Satan, and yet here he was apologizing to Sam as if this was all some big inconvenience. Everything he’d read pointed to a powerful, wrathful angel bent on vengeance against his father, not this soft-spoken, calm entity that had greeted him when he’d woken up earlier. It’s all wrong. Nothing is adding up, and that frightens Sam even more.

He scoffs, dropping his head down into his hands. This is par for the course. Everything that’s ever happened to him has pushed him in this direction. His mother’s death, his life on the road. His decision to leave his father and Dean. He thinks about how angry his father had been, how he’d told him not to come back. Presented with this as the end result of his life, he wishes he could say that he’s more surprised, but that doesn’t mean for a second that he has to accept it.

He sets his jaw and lifts his head to look down at his hands. He’s trapped here. He traded his safety for Dean’s, and if that means staying so that his brother stays safe then that’s what it takes. But he doesn’t have to give an inch more than that.

Sam has no idea how much time has passed when he’s pulled out of his thoughts by a knock at the door. The light in the room has shifted and dimmed. He’s stiff when he straightens, rubbing his hands on the thighs of his jeans. He’d assumed he was alone here with Lucifer, but he hadn’t bothered knocking earlier so this must be someone else. His pulse quickens as fear floods his system again, this time tinged with curiosity. He might not be the only prisoner here, but Lucifer might not be the only jailer, either.

He stands and pats at his pockets, cursing under his breath when he remembers that anything even resembling a weapon had disappeared while he was unconscious. He moves quickly around the couch and positions himself so that he’ll be hidden by the open door.

There is another knock, this time a little louder and more insistent. Sam sighs heavily and rolls his eyes.

“What?” he calls out. “Either come in or stop knocking!”

The door opens slowly but obscures Sam’s view of the person entering. Sam kicks the door and is rewarded with a solid thunk as it swings back and hits his new visitor hard.

A tiny, dark-haired woman stumbles into the room, gingerly touching a bump on her forehead. Sam moves quickly, shutting the door behind her. He grabs her by the arm to slam her up against the closed door then presses an arm over her throat, just enough to hold her in place.

“Who the hell are you?” he demands. “Are you trapped here, too?”

She coughs and struggles against him, managing to bring a knee up to his groin. He groans and steps back, doubling over, and she shoves him hard, sending him reeling back into the room.

“Is this how you greet everyone?” she asks. She coughs again and rubs at her throat.

Sam straightens and charges her again but she slips a knife out of the inside of her jacket and holds it out defensively. He pulls up short and takes a step back. This wasn’t at all what he had planned for.

“Are you a vessel?” he pants, willing the pain to fade. “What are you doing here?” His eyes flit between her face and the knife as he struggles to come up a plan.

“Lots of questions there,” she replies smoothly. “You mind if I answer some of them?”

Sam gives a short nod. He’s still scared, but again he gets the feeling that if she wanted to kill him he’d be dead by now, so he waits for her answers.

“I’m Ruby. I’m not trapped here and I sure as hell don’t need rescuing that’s what you’re asking.” 

Ruby gives him a sly half-smile and the faint hope Sam had felt when she’d opened the door disappears. She’s not Lucifer’s prisoner. “As for what I’m doing here?” she continues. “I want to help.”

“Move out of the way of the door,” he fires back.

“Yeah, not that kind of help,” she replies, deadpan but with a wider smile. Sam frowns at her and glares, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

She lowers the knife and tucks it back inside her jacket, keeping eye contact with him the whole time. “Can we maybe start this over, Sam? I don’t think this went how either of us wanted it to.” 

Sam nods warily but lowers his hands. “You never told me what you wanted.”

Ruby hooks a thumb over her shoulder and gestures towards the door. “Lucifer sent me to tell you it’s time for dinner.”

“Lucifer sent you?” he asks, eyes widening as all the pieces fall into place. How else would she be able to walk around armed and shove Sam off her so easily? “You’re a demon!”

Ruby folds her arms across her chest and levels her gaze at him. She blinks slowly and even in the dim light Sam can see it when her eyes flash inky black.

Sam blows out a short breath and glances around the room. There’s nothing that can help him, so he turns his attention back to her and starts reciting the exorcism ritual. Ruby shudders and rolls her head from side to side but nothing happens, and the words die in Sam’s throat as a fresh wave of fear washes over him.

“Wow,” she says as her eyes fade back to their original deep brown. “I say I want to help you and that’s how you show gratitude? Really, Sam?” She shakes her head and holds up her arm, pushing her jacket back so that Sam can see her wrist. “That won’t work on me, anyway.”

There’s a brand on the inside of her wrist that Sam immediately recognizes. It’s used to keep demons locked inside their vessels, and Sam wonders briefly if that would work angels as well. He pushes the thought from his mind and focuses on Ruby again.

“Come on. Dinner’s waiting.” Ruby pulls her arm back. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear then lets her arm hang at her side.

“I’m not hungry,” he says, surprised to find that it’s true. His stomach feels cold and tight and he’s pretty sure if he tried to eat anything it would stick in his throat.

“Yes you are, Sam,” she says, cocking her head to one side. “Starving yourself won’t prove anything. Let’s go.” 

“I’m not going.” He raises his eyebrows and laughs sardonically, shaking his head as he watches her. “I’m not eating with the angel holding me prisoner here. Are you crazy?”

“Look, we don’t know each other yet, and I get that this has been really hard for you-“  
Sam scoffs and she falls silent, glaring at him before continuing. “No one from your side got killed last night, did they? Your brother is fine. I’m trying to be nice here.”

Sam can only stare open-mouthed. He can’t bring himself to apologize for killing demons, and yet he feels a pang of regret when he hears the pain in her voice.

Ruby’s face falls as she watches him, her expression changing from offended to something almost hopeful. “But you gotta believe me when I say that this isn’t all bad. It could be really good if you let it.”

“There is nothing good about this!” Sam argues, his voice and his confidence rising when she opens her mouth to protest. “I’m being held prisoner by the angel so evil he was thrown out of Heaven until I consent to let him wear me to the End of Days.” Ruby flinches at his words but he continues. “Forget it. He’ll have to drag me out himself and force feed me.”

“He wouldn’t do that, Sam,” she insists, tucking her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “He won’t hurt you. You’re special.”

He’s taken aback by the earnestness in her voice and the honesty he sees in her face when she looks up at him.

“Look, just go,” he says, defeated and rubbing at his eyes. “I’m not coming out of here. End of story.”

Ruby sighs and runs over hand her t-shirt. She tugs at the hem to smooth it out and smirks when she sees Sam’s eyes following the motion. She turns and heads back towards the door. “I’ll come by with towels and soap and stuff later, so you can at least get clean,” she says back over her shoulder.

Sam nods but she doesn’t see it as she slips out of the room. He stares at the door for a moment and feels all the fight drain out of him. The small victory of not going down to dinner is barely enough to buoy him. It worked tonight but won’t work forever, and he has no plan for what to do when he’s forced to give up what little ground he’s made here tonight. The fire has more or less died but Sam doesn’t know what else to do, so he crosses the room to sit in front of it again. Bone-weary and drifting, he sinks back down onto the sofa and buries his head in his hands.


	3. I May Be This Way Forever

When Sam comes to, the first thing he notices is the smell. There’s no scent of breakfast, no coffee, none of the warm, familiar smells of Bobby’s home. Instead there’s cool air and a vaguely musty stink, like an attic or a cabin that doesn’t get much use, but he’s warm and comfortable so he stretches lazily under the heavy blankets.

It’s also quiet, he reflects. No snoring Dean in the room with him, no hiss of a shower or blaring of a clock radio. As he thinks through all of the sounds he’s not hearing, memories of the last two days come back to him and he opens his eyes with a sigh.

He remembers sitting on the small sofa near the fireplace, but now he’s in bed with the blankets pulled up to his chin. He’s also almost completely undressed, a fact which is significantly more alarming than having been moved across the room. Stealing a man’s clothes in order to keep him captive is seriously playing dirty, and doing it while he’s unconscious is just really damn low. Even alone in the room he feels a flush of embarrassment that someone had manhandled him into bed and stripped him and he hadn’t even noticed, let alone put up a fight.

Sam rolls out of bed and hurries to the door, sucking in a breath as the cold air hits his skin. It’s still locked, and he sighs, frowning as his stomach protests the refusal he’d made the night before. Being rested means that his mind and body can concentrate on something other than exhaustion; last night’s nerve-wracking panic has been replaced by a constant thrum of wary uncertainty. He berates himself for having fallen asleep last night and even entertains the idea that Lucifer had tricked him, but it doesn’t add up. He wasn’t forced to go dinner, so why bother angel mind-tricking him into bed and taking his clothes off?

That’s a thought Sam doesn’t want to follow up, so he’s more than a little relieved when he turns around to see his clothes laid out at the foot of the bed. They’re all there, clean and dry; even his boots have been cleaned. The room looks even worse in the bright morning light, motes of dust hanging in the air and tracks from his boots crisscrossing the hardwood floor before disappearing into one of the carpets.

He crosses to the bathroom and opens the door, eyes widening in surprise.

“Thank you, Ruby,” he says under his breath as he surveys the now spotless room. Everything has been cleaned and polished, and fresh towels are piled high next to the sink. The bathtub is fully stocked with soap and shampoo, and he finds a toothbrush and shaving kit in the cabinet above the sink.

He takes his time showering, feeling extra grimy for having spent two nights in that dusty room. Irritation and disappointment with himself play in his mind as he imagines Ruby coming and going to clean and stock this place while he lay in bed oblivious to the world. He finds himself hoping she did it alone. The idea of a troupe of demons in his room while he was unconscious makes his skin crawl.

The steam helps clear his head, but he feels no better about the situation. He has no idea how to get out of the room, no idea what Lucifer has in place to keep track of him if he even makes it that far, and no idea what will happen to Dean if he manages to escape. The hot water works slowly on his knotted shoulders and he takes deep breaths, letting the heat do what it can to relax him.

He wraps a towel around his waist and peeks out into the bedroom. Someone has balanced a silver tray on the corner on the desk with a cup of coffee and a sandwich. He picks up the mug and reads the card that’s beside the plate.

_Thanks for not trying to escape last night. –R_

“Didn’t do it for you,” Sam mutters to himself. He hardly classifies passing out in captivity and having his last remaining possessions removed while he slept “not trying to escape,” but even if he’d managed to stay awake and aware he wouldn’t have run. He takes a sip of the coffee before setting the mug back down on the tray in exchange for the sandwich. He doesn’t even stop to check what’s in it before he’s eaten more than half of it. It’s turkey and cheese, dry but edible, and he’s certainly not going to complain.

He finishes the sandwich and walks over to his bed, coffee in hand. He sets the mug on the nightstand and tosses the towel onto the bed. He’s buttoning his jeans when the bedroom door bursts open behind him.

“Good morning to you, too!” The woman that bursts into the room isn’t Ruby, but Sam is too startled to go on the offensive before she’s kicked the door shut behind her. She flashes an almost predatory smile at Sam that makes him snatch his t-shirt up from the bed and pull it on quickly.

“Ruby knocked, you know,” he says, combing his fingers through his damp hair.

“Not Ruby,” she answers, pointing at her chest for good measure. She’s got the same dark hair and eyes, but her hair is wavy and her face is rounder. The thought that the two of them might have possessed sisters makes Sam’s stomach turn and he leaves it. 

“What if I’d been naked?”

The predatory smile widens to a grin that borders on frightening.

“I’m Meg. Ruby sent me to check on you, find out if you survived the night, and leave you these.” She’s holding two large paper bags, which she sets down just inside the door before looking him over. “Looks like you survived. Even figured out how to work the shower. Right, then, I’m out.”

Sam eyes the bags suspiciously. “What’s that?”

“Umm, clothes.” She leans over and looks down into one of the bags in an exaggerated motion.

“Why?” Sam snaps, eying the bag suspiciously.

Her face scrunches up in confusion. “Why what?”

“Why are you giving me clothes?” he asks again. It just feels wrong. He’s a prisoner here and prisoners don’t just get given things, at least not for free.

“…So you’ll have something to wear?” She turns the end of the statement up into a question as if to humor Sam by suggesting that there might be more than one answer to that question.

“I have clothes,” he says, holding up his shirt.

She gestures in his direction and raises an eyebrow. “And if you want to keep living that plaid flannel dream then I’m not going to stop you, but Ruby wanted to get you more clothes. Here they are. End of story.”

“That’s it?” Sam asks as he steps forward to follow her out the door.

“You want to come to breakfast?” Meg quips, turning in the hallway to face him.

“Is Lucifer going to be there?” He moves to one side of her, then the other, but she plants her hands on the doorframe and shifts her weight to block him each time.

“If you’re there then he’s going to be there.”

Sam nods expectantly. “Is that how it works? You give me stuff and I’m just supposed to agree to sit down to pancakes with Satan.”

Meg is taken aback. She blinks slowly and stares at him for a moment. “No, it works like this. Clothes,” she says, holding out one hand with the palm up, “and breakfast.” She holds up her other hand. “See? Way different things.”

“I’m not going.”

Meg shrugs. “Then we’re done. Ruby might have taken an interest in you, but that’s her thing, not mine.” She plants a hand in the center of his chest and pushes him so hard that he staggers backward, his calves catching the edge of the bed so that he falls back onto it. “And don’t even think about trying to get out of here.”

“Can I get a book or something?” Sam shouts at the closed door. When no one answers, he stands up and walks to the door. It’s locked again.

He turns his attention to the bags Meg left behind, dumping the contents onto the bed unceremoniously. There are t-shirts, jeans, some flannel shirts and sweaters, underwear, and even some nicer shirts that Sam can’t imagine wearing. They’re button-downs that look like the sort of stuff he’d worn when he started at Stanford. He’d known it was ridiculous to believe that people could tell from a shirt that he traveled the country with his alcoholic father killing the sorts of creatures they thought only existed in their nightmares, but that didn’t stop him from ditching all his own clothes and letting Jess pick out a completely new wardrobe for him. Anything worked as long as it didn’t scream “hunter.”

The day passes slowly. Trying on the clothes takes some time, but not much. Sam folds them all and sets them back in the bags. There’s an empty steamer trunk at the foot of the bed, but putting the clothes in it feels permanent, like an admission of defeat. Something as simple as putting on a new pair of jeans now feels loaded with intent, like he’s accepting his fate. In the back his mind he can hear Dean telling him to get out and save himself, but he can’t. That’s the deal he made: his freedom for his brother’s safety.

Anxiety creeps up on him as the day wears on, curls around him and burrows down into his chest until he’s sure he’ll suffocate with it. With nothing to do but think, his mind wanders to every available worst case scenario. He has no idea if Lucifer kept his word to keep Dean safe, and no way to find out. He doesn’t know where he is, or if his brother knows where he is and who he’s with, or why he’s there.

Eventually he hooks a chair under the door for privacy, then strips to his underwear and works out, spreading the drop cloth out over the gritty floorboards. He lets the ache in his muscles push all the other thoughts out of his mind and for a while everything else becomes background noise and he can breathe again.

The combination of the workout and sunlight streaming in through the windows makes the room feel warmer than yesterday. Sam showers again then soaks a towel in soapy water and does his best to try to clean the windows. It’s slow going, but by midafternoon he has accumulated a pile of filthy towels and can see out over the garden surrounding the house.

It might have been immaculately manicured once, but now it’s gone to seed, the shrubs and rosebushes extending over the paths. This time of year they’re almost bare, and the stone walkways are covered with colored leaves in different stages of decay.

He’s too high up above the garden to try to jump from a window. Even if he landed in the brush and not directly on the stone, he’d still probably break a leg, and even then he has no idea where he is. He’s been in forests all over the country and there is nothing that he can see to distinguish this from anywhere else.

If he doesn’t know where he is, then it’s unrealistic to expect Dean or anyone else to know. With no way to find him there’s no way to start searching and rescue him.

Sam turns away from the windows with a frown. He’s tried all day to push away the thought of what Lucifer had told him the night before, but now it forces its way forward, refusing to be ignored. Sam Winchester is the devil’s true vessel, and he’ll be a prisoner here until he agrees to let Satan himself take over his body. He fights against the rising sensation of hopelessness, wills himself to rebel in every way available, but it won’t come. In its place, a haze of something close to despair settles in over him.

Evening comes, this time with nothing to put in the fireplace. One of the sweaters was a thick cable knit in cream, and Sam fishes it out of the bag and pulls it on, along with a pair of grey sweatpants. It’s soft and warm, and he admits to himself that Ruby has pretty good taste for a demon. Sam stretches out on the bed and when Ruby knocks on his door Sam doesn’t even get up.

“Come in,” he calls, turning his head towards the door.

“Do I need my knife?”

“No,” he replies. Last night he’d been wired and furious, but tonight he just feels powerless. 

She pokes her head around the door, her straight hair hanging down around her face. “Hi Sam,” she says cautiously, moving into the room and shutting the door. She walks around and gathers up the tray and mug from this morning. Her mouth falls open when she sees the pile of towels collected on the drop cloth.

“I did some cleaning,” Sam says, and she grins at him where he’s stretched out in bed.

“I guess so,” she replies, poking at the towels with her boot. “Sorry this place is such a disaster. We really only clean the parts we use, and it’s not like we had time to prepare.”

“How many of you are there?” He props himself up on his elbows and watches her move around the room.

“Just me and Meg,” she answers over her shoulder from where she’s looking out the windows. “We’re the only ones that stay with him. You should be careful. We might make you start doing all the windows.”

“Meg’s a real charmer,” Sam drawls, silently relieved that the demons he’d imagined traipsing through his bedroom this morning were just that: imagined. He watches her as she walks to the side of the bed and looks down at him. He throws the covers back and swings his legs over to sit on the edge of the bed.

Ruby shrugs apologetically and walks to the side of the bed. “She takes some getting used to.”

She kicks at the bags standing next to Sam’s legs. “Did everything fit?” Sam gives a one-shouldered shrug. “I picked them out myself,” she adds. “I hope you like them.” She worries at the corner of her lower lip with her teeth. Her tongue peeks out to run over the same spot and Sam watches it.

“So,” she says, and Sam feels heat rise in his face when he meets her eyes and realizes she saw him looking. She smiles and Sam ducks his head.  
“How did I get into bed last night?” Sam asks warily.

“I moved you,” Ruby answers with a nod.

“You?” He doesn’t bother trying to disguise the skepticism in his voice.

Ruby straightens and brings her arm up, flexing her bicep. “You don’t think I could do it? Big hunter like you never been thrown into a wall by a demon?”

Sam’s eyebrows disappear up towards his hairline and Ruby half-smiles at him. “I... tossed you. Undressed you, too. How else was I supposed to figure out what size to get for you clothes? Other than just buying the biggest size available, I mean.”

Sam gives her a weak smirk at that. “Thanks for that. And the bathroom?”

“You were out like a light and I was quiet,” she says with a shrug.

“Well, thanks. And thanks for the food.”

“Speaking of which,” she starts.

Sam knows what’s coming. He sighs and turns his head away. There’s no way he’ll go, but he can’t bring himself to fight, especially when he knows he won’t be forced if he refuses. An uncomfortable silence falls between them and she shifts her weight before sidling back towards the door. “He’s expecting us, and Sam, he really wants to talk to you, make up for the first impression. Please?”

“Why doesn’t he come himself?”

“He wants to have a proper introduction,” she replies. “And, maybe, I volunteered.”

“Do you get in trouble if I say no?” Sam asks, finally turning to look at her again. Ruby shakes her head. “Then, sorry, but no.”

Ruby sighs and pulls the door closed again. Sam rolls onto his back and stares at the cracked ceiling. She’s too nice for a demon, Lucifer is too patient for the devil, and Sam is too tired to think about it.

Unfortunately, that’s all he does until he falls into a fitful sleep.


	4. A Deity Felt Sympathy

Sam tosses and turns, trying to find his way back to the pleasant unconsciousness he’d fallen into earlier. He can tell without opening his eyes that it’s still night, but the darkness beyond his eyelids has a strange, shifting quality and it is unbearably warm in his room for the first time since he arrived here. The smell of smoke reaches him and horrible images start to swim behind his eyes. He sees his mother and Jess, pinned to the ceiling and surrounded by flames. He sees John, his face all planes and shadows, devoid of emotion as he stands next to a burning grave.

He sees Dean, chained down and surrounded by hellfire, screaming his name, and at that he cries out, thrashing to get his blankets off until he nearly falls out of the bed and finally opens his eyes.

There is a roaring fire in his fireplace, and for a long moment Sam can do little more than stare at in confusion while it flickers and pops. He remembers trying to fall asleep in the cold dark of his room after refusing Ruby’s invitation again, but nothing after that. Someone else must have come in and started it.

He scrubs a hand over his face and sucks in deep, shuddering breaths, trying to calm himself after the nightmare. His eyes squeeze shut against the sting of tears as he tries to push the memories to the back of his mind again. His mother, father, and Jess are all gone, but Dean is still alive, he reminds himself. Dean is alive and he is safe because Sam is here.

He strips off the sweater and shirt he’d worn to bed until he’s down to his sweat-soaked t-shirt. He pulls that off too and kicks the blankets away so that he can turn to sit on the edge of the bed.

As he fishes through the bags by his feet for a new t-shirt, the door to his room opens with a soft click. He pauses, but when no one comes into the room he quickly tugs the t-shirt over his head and stuffs his feet into his untied boots before heading towards the door.

“Hello?” he calls as he cautiously sticks his head out into the hall. Whoever had started the fire in his room must have forgotten to lock the door behind them, but it opening of its own accord was enough to put his slowly settling nerves back on edge. No one in the house has shown any inclination towards torture yet, but he would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t expecting it.

He looks one way, then the other. The walkway is empty, so he steps out of his room and moves to look out over the heavy wooden railing separating the rooms from the floor below. There’s still no sign of anyone, so he walks past the other rooms without stopping to check their doors. Lights along the ceiling blink to life as he walks, leading him towards the staircase. He stops at the top of the stairs and looks back over his shoulder to see the lights fading again behind him.

Fire out of nowhere, unlocked door, and now lights that seem to lead him through the house.

“I’m dreaming,” he mutters to himself before starting down the stairs. “I’m dreaming, or this place is haunted.”

It’s quiet, no sound except for the shuffle of his boots on the carpet and the occasional gentle creak of wood as he walks down to the first floor. He can see a collection of sofas and chairs off to one side and a large desk at the other end of the space. The vaulted ceiling meets in a high peak with a chandelier made of carved wood and antlers hanging down from it on a wrought-iron chain.

All of this is interesting, but what captures his attention are the double doors directly opposite the base of the stairs. They’re flanked by high windows that let him see the garden and woods beyond. Moonlight spills down over everything, and the leaves still clinging to the bushes outside are white and glittering with frost. 

Sam steps off the bottom stair and moves quickly to the doors. Logically, he knows it’s not real, but that only makes the temptation to escape burn even brighter in his chest. Outside this dreamscape he is responsible for Dean’s safety, but here he can leave and run until he wakes up and no one needs to know. 

The handles don’t budge under his hands. Sam pulls on them until the doors rattle in their frames and the sound echoes in the room around him. He throws all his weight against them, swearing when they still refuse to give. Panting with frustration, he leans his forehead against the cool glass and stares out at the woods beyond, cursing the limits placed upon him by his own mind.

“You mustn’t be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling,” Lucifer says, the smirk evident in his voice.

The air around Sam turns colder and he spins, pressing his back against the doors, panicked at having been found trying to escape. Lucifer is standing on the bottom step of the staircase, regarding him with a curious smile.

“You’re doing this,” Sam breathes out, anger and understanding bubbling up inside him alongside his fear. As if to answer him, Lucifer points to the chandelier above them and it flares to life. Sam’s not safe, even here in his own head.

Lucifer nods once. It’s a slow, deliberate movement, as if he’s is trying it out for the first time. Sam thinks about what he’s seen since he woke up and the anger in his chest burns hotter.

“Wait,” he says, watching as Lucifer steps down off the stairs and approaches him slowly. “That was you! Jess, and Dean! You made me watch my mother-“

“Whoa, Sam. That wasn’t me,” Lucifer cuts him off and raises his hands defensively. His voice is still perfectly calm as he stares back at Sam. “That was all your own mind filling in blanks.” He taps at his temple as he speaks. “I just wanted to make it a little more comfortable.”

“I’m just supposed to trust you?” Sam sneers, eyes scanning the room, looking for some way to escape.

Lucifer sighs and gives a little shake of his head. “We’ve been through this. I will never lie to you.”

“I don’t believe you!” Sam shouts.

There is room to maneuver on both sides of him, but Sam moves off to the left, making a wide circle around Lucifer until he’s almost back to the stairs. Lucifer turns to keep him in sight and Sam enjoys a tiny moment of victory when he sets foot on the bottom stair. He looks past Lucifer at the locked doors he’s been forced to abandon and sighs bitterly. His first glimpse of freedom might have been imaginary, but it was all his until Lucifer barged in and took it away.

Lucifer moves to follow him towards the stairs, and the undisguised curiosity in his cold blue eyes makes Sam uncomfortable enough to start backing away, step by step. He has nowhere to run, but he can’t bring himself to stay still and just let the devil come to him.

“I’m glad to see you again,” Lucifer says slowly, his eyes never leaving Sam’s face. “I’ve been worried about you.”

Sam scoffs and glances back over his shoulder as he backs up the stairs. When he turns back Lucifer is much closer, only one step below him, and Sam’s breath catches in his throat. He finds himself unable to back off or look away from the intensity of Lucifer’s gaze.

“What happened to your face?” Sam asks, a wave of relief flooding over him when Lucifer looks away. All of the sores that were on his face two nights ago have disappeared, replaced by healthy skin and stubble.

“Oh,” Lucifer breathes. “I thought it might be easier for us to talk if you weren’t distracted by the state of my current vessel. Here I can appear to you however I want. I thought you would appreciate it.”

Lucifer goes quiet and looks down at his own hands, and Sam takes the opportunity to turn and run up the stairs. He takes them two at a time and hurries down the hall, slamming the door to his room behind him. He squeezes his eyes shut and wills himself to wake up.

“Sorry, Sam. It’s not that easy.” Lucifer is leaning against the back of the sofa, the fire crackling merrily behind him. He looks up from his careful study of his nails when Sam swears under his breath. 

“Is this some kind of game to you?” Sam snarls. “What the hell is going on?” 

He tries the door only to find that it’s now locked, and turns to see Lucifer giving him an expectant look.

“I just want to talk to you. I haven’t seen you for days.” 

“You just want to possess me,” Sam counters, folding his arms across his chest.

Lucifer shrugs. “I won’t deny that would make things a great deal easier for me.”

“Then why haven’t you done it yet?” There’s genuine curiosity in Sam’s question. It’s something that’s been nagging at him since that first night, but with no contact with Lucifer he’s been unable to ask. He knows he’s risking closing the only loophole that’s kept him safe so far, but he can’t imagine that Lucifer would ignore an obvious opportunity.

“I told you. I need your consent.” Lucifer speaks with the same infinite patience, as if he will explain this to Sam as many times as necessary to reassure him.

“I agreed to come with you here.”

“You had no idea what I wanted with you,” Lucifer replies. “Some angels might take that as consent, but I don’t. I want you to understand exactly what it is you’re agreeing to.”

He waits but Sam doesn’t respond. He has no interest in learning more about what it might be like to be a vessel. The last two days without Lucifer had allowed him to temporarily forget the end game. He’d been so focused on Dean’s safety that he’d ignored how much danger he was in himself.

“You’re refusing to eat-“ Lucifer starts, his tone gently chiding.

Sam glares at him. “I’m refusing to eat _with you._ ”

“Well, that’s the only way it’s going to happen. I don’t have a lot of rules here but I’m standing fast on that one. We need to get to know each other.”

Sam rolls his eyes and looks away, staring at the windows along the far wall. The light of the fire reflects back into the room, making it impossible to see out. He watches it play on the glass and lets it steal his attention while he tries to ignore Lucifer.

“This relationship feels very one-sided, Sam,” Lucifer says finally, as he motions between them. “I know everything about you. I just want to return the favor.”

“What do you mean, everything?” Sam asks warily, his eyes not leaving the windows. An idea is forming that might allow him to get away from Lucifer and out of this dream.

Lucifer smiles softly, pleased that Sam is showing interest. “You were created for me. I’ve known about you for almost as long as I’ve existed. I’ve looked forward to meeting you for a long time. It wasn’t easy getting you and your brother out on that hunt.”

“You planned that? You tricked us!” Sam pushes away from the door and storms into the middle of the room. He’s upset at this revelation but the movement is also calculated. He needs to get closer to the windows and he uses the explosion of anger as an excuse.

“I didn’t know how else to find you. You’re very well hidden,” Lucifer says, pointing at Sam’s chest. Sam rubs at his breastbone, remembering the ache that came when Castiel etched the wards into his ribs.

All for nothing now.

“Why me?” Sam asks, pushing the words out through clenched teeth. He swallows hard when his voice breaks under the strain of trying to mask his frustration.

Lucifer sighs and spreads his hands. “Sam, Sam, Sam. It had to be you. It wasn’t my choice. Since the beginning of time, it’s been part of the plan to make you the perfect fit for me. That hole that’s always been inside you can be filled, but only if you let me.”

A muscle twitches in Sam’s jaw and he focuses on the window. “It’s not fair,” he spits out.

“I understand you’re angry, and you should be,” Lucifer continues, heat creeping into his voice. “But not at me. You and I are in the same boat here. We have to work together.”

Sam looks from Lucifer to the windows. He’s dreamt of falling before, nightmares that seem to stretch on forever where he tumbles through clouds and stars, looking up at the Earth as he plummets down into blackness. He always wakes up before he lands, though. This confrontation might feel tangible in his anger and resentment towards Lucifer’s invasion but it’s still just a dream and that means that he can wake up.

“I realize I dropped a bombshell on you the other night, but you needed to know.” Lucifer stands and starts to walk towards him. Sam prepares himself to jump.

“I don’t want you to feel like a prisoner here,” Lucifer continues. “I want this to be your home. You’re so important to me, Sam. I want to give you everything.”

“I don’t want _anything._ I’ll never say yes.” Sam is surprised at his own confidence, bolstered now that he has a plan to escape. He’ll still be trapped in the house but not in his own mind, and it’s a liberating sensation. Even as a prisoner he still has the ability to end this nightmare.

“Maybe not the first time I ask,” Lucifer replies calmly. He’s moved to stand beside Sam now, and he reaches out to wrap his hand around Sam’s wrist. His skin is cool in the heat of the room, with the pads of his fingers pressed against Sam’s pulse point. The contact draws a shaky breath from Sam as his body welcomes the sense of connection, a thrill that rides his blood out to every corner of him. The curiosity and the smile are gone from Lucifer’s face, but the warm intensity remains. Sam calls it pity and refuses to dwell on what else it could be as he pulls his eyes away from Lucifer’s face, looking down at the hand on his wrist.

“Sam. Be careful.” Lucifer says, his hand tightening slightly. It’s not a threat so much as a request. A generous person might even call it a gentle plea.

Sam pulls his arm out of Lucifer’s grasp and turns towards the window.

Sam covers the distance in three long strides before he throws his arms up to protect his face and neck. Lucifer cries out in alarm and reaches for him, but he’s not fast enough.

Sam turns at the last moment, crashing shoulder-first through the window. Glass flies out around him and the cold air shocks his lungs. Lucifer watches him fall, pain and sadness clear on his face. Sam closes his eyes as the path below rises up to meet him, and he wakes with a gasp in his bed, alone in his cold, empty room. There is no fire, there is no broken window, and there is no Lucifer.


	5. Drink Deep The Wreck Of Me

The morning is grey and rainy, matching Sam’s grogginess perfectly. Sleep had been a long time returning. It’s late in the morning when Sam finally gives up on trying to fall asleep. He pushes himself up to sit in bed, resting his shoulders against the headboard as he contemplates the dream he had the night before. 

Nothing has met his expectations since he arrived, and Lucifer’s words and actions had only served to unbalance Sam further. Uncertainty gnaws at the back of his mind. Ruby and Lucifer are kind, patient, and concerned about him, going against everything he knows about demons and the devil. Even Meg’s cool disinterest is far from what he’s come to expect. Sam’s constantly watching the horizon but he can’t see what’s coming, and while that worries him, he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he was starting to let his guard down.

It’s early afternoon when Sam finally rolls out of bed to start his day, and he’s silently grateful that no one has been in to visit him.

Sam tries to work out, but his head is foggy and it takes all his concentration to keep going and not think about the conversation from the night before. His shoulders ache from the stress of the last few days, and it pulls him back into thoughts of Lucifer and the energy he’d felt when they touched. 

He doesn’t hear the knock at the door, and he’s lost count three times when he’s startled out of his rhythm of an exaggerated cough.

Ruby is leaning against one of the bedposts watching him. Her mouth curves up into a smile when he catches her eye.

“Like what you see?” Sam rises to his feet and rubs his hands together to get rid of the dust.

“Oh yeah,” she answers. “Being a demon makes me neither blind nor dead.” She lets her eyes wander over his chest and shoulders, and Sam feels himself flush under the attention.

“Did you just come by for the show, or what?”

“Maybe,” she says, shrugging with one shoulder. “Or maybe I want to know what happened last night. Also, these.” She holds up two books that she tosses unceremoniously onto the chest at the foot of the bed.

“Do you always snoop on your boss’ conversations?” Sam asks as he picks up the towel from the floor. He folds and refolds it, keeping it in front of him while they chat.

“He’s not just my boss. He’s… he’s my creator,” she explains, gesturing emphatically. “Father, boss, god, all rolled into one. And he’s worried about you, so I wanted to know how it went.”

“So you knew he was going to come stalk me in my dreams?”

“I knew he was getting desperate to talk to you,” Ruby replies matter-of-factly.

The image of Ruby and Lucifer huddled at a table discussing him appears in his mind and he blinks hard, rubbing at his eyes. “We talked,” Sam says with finality.

“Will you have dinner with him tonight? For real, I mean?” she asks, her voice rising with excitement.

“Will you keep asking until I do?”

Ruby nods. “I want you two to be friends. It’s important.”

Sam narrows his eyes. “If I eat dinner with him, will you be there?”

“Yeah,” she answers enthusiastically.

Sam has been thinking about his dream from the night before. He looks down at his hand and flexes it, remembering the intoxicating feeling that had wound its way through him when Lucifer grabbed his wrist. He’s been replaying Lucifer’s words in his mind all morning, too. They’ve left him distracted and unable to focus, but more than that he’s curious. Part of him wants to feel it again. 

Lucifer had spoken of a hole inside him, and Sam feels it more acutely than ever. He can see it when he closes his eyes, a gaping sore in the middle of his chest. It’s not like he’s never felt it, but Lucifer’s grace had filled it and he’s felt its absence since he woke up.

He nods distractedly. “Yeah. Yeah, okay,” he mutters.

Ruby grins broadly and Sam fights to return the gesture, already regretting his decision, but reluctant to take it back.

Sam turns to go put the towel back in the bathroom, but Ruby pushes off from the bedpost and moves to stand in front of him. She traces the outline of his anti-possession tattoo with one finger and looks up at him from under thick lashes. “So, that show I walked in on,” she purrs, running her tongue over her lower lip. “Would you keep going if I said I like watching?”

Sam’s breath quickens as he looks down at Ruby. She rests her hand flat on his chest and presses in closer against him, her clothing just grazing his skin.

“Come on, Sam, I’m too short to make the first move here,” she says, and that’s all it takes. He tosses the towel blindly towards the sofa and bends down to kiss her. Her lips are damp and smooth and when she slips her tongue into his mouth he tastes coffee and toothpaste. 

He cradles the back of her head with one hand and wraps his other arm around her, pulling her flush against his body. His nose is pressed against her cheek and he can feel her eyelashes brush his skin. She moans into his mouth, dragging her nails down his chest before wrapping her arms around his neck. She sways against him, biting at his lower lip, and he opens one eye a crack to see that she’s standing on tiptoe.

He slides his hands down her sides to palm her ass, but Ruby breaks the kiss and backs away before he can lift her up. She watches him with dark eyes and kiss-swollen lips as she backs towards the door.

“See you at dinner,” she whispers hoarsely. She fumbles with the doorknob and gives him a quick, flustered smile before she pulls the door shut and locks it.

Sam blows a breath out through his nose and sighs to himself, unsure if he just did something incredibly smart or catastrophically stupid.

He snags the towel from the back of the sofa on his way into the bathroom, and slips his boxer briefs off with a groan. He’s more than half-hard, and in the heat of the shower he strokes himself to orgasm thinking about full lips and fingernails on his skin.

He stays in the shower until the hot water starts to fade but still doesn’t feel clean. He’s ashamed of kissing Ruby, ashamed of wanting her when he knows what she is. Everything about her is dark and twisted, and no matter how kind she may have been to him up until now he knows he would be foolish to expect anything other than deception from her. Even her interest in him could have some ulterior motive. She’s beautiful and tempting: just the sort of tool Lucifer would use.

This pales in comparison to the bitter taste that fills his mouth when he considers how he’ll be spending his evening. He had one way to rebel here and now he’s given it up in search of more of that vibrant, warm sense of belonging he felt the night before. It’s dangerous to want anything from Lucifer and he knows it, but he’d be lying to himself if he said it hadn’t been on his mind. He wipes away the steam from the mirror and flinches at the scorn he sees in his own reflection.

Sam digs through the bags of clothes, holding up shirt after shirt as he tries to decide what to wear. He can hear Dean’s voice in his head, chiding him for worrying about clothes when the girl’s already seen him almost naked. The voice he hears reminding him that Ruby is a demon, evil, and will be his ruin is his own, but he knows Dean would agree.

Thinking of his brother is like a blow to the stomach, and he sinks down onto the bed, letting the shirt he’s holding crumple in his lap. He did this to keep Dean safe, and it worked, but what does Dean know now? Does he have any idea where Sam is, that he’s even alive? Does he know who took him? Is he looking for him? Is he still safe?

The hours run together as Sam battles with himself. He decides to stay in his room, refuse to go when the time comes for him to go to dinner, but every time he thinks back on his meeting with Lucifer in his dream he feels a pull. The attraction to Ruby is superficial, but the desire for contact with Lucifer goes deeper.

Sam is pulled from his thoughts by the sound of the lock on his door sliding open.

“You’re not even dressed? Jeez, Winchester.” Meg folds her arms and settles her weight, arching an eyebrow.

He looks down at the shirt in his hands. It’s a dark blue button-down, and he shrugs it on and buttons it as he walks to the door. He still not sure he’s made the right decision, but he’s also not about to turn back.

“You really don’t have to babysit me on my way to dinner, you know,” he says as he walks behind her. Everything in the hallway looks exactly as it had in his dream.

Meg gives him a curious glance, then nods for him to follow her down the stairs. The dining room is off to one side. She skirts around the lobby desk and shoulders the door open, motioning for Sam to go in.

The room is small and intimate with only one long table to fill the space. The end closest to the fireplace has been set, and there are two chairs. One is pulled back, waiting for him, his side of the table closer to the fire. Lucifer rises when he hears the door swing shut. He looks strangely unassuming, but the energy in the room is unmistakable. He smiles warmly when Sam approaches, gesturing towards the empty chair.

“Good evening, Sam. I hope you’re rested.” Lucifer’s voice unfurls as his eyes follow Sam’s path across the room. In the quiet room it is impossible for Sam to miss the way Lucifer’s breath hitches as Sam moves to stand next to his own chair.

“Seriously? You know I didn’t,” Sam says as he slowly sinks into his chair. “You were there.”

Lucifer laughs quietly as he sits, mirroring Sam’s posture. Sam balks at the sly smile that Lucifer gives him when he lifts his eyes from the table. He’s flustered and he can feel heat rising on his cheeks. He wants to stand up again, leave and storm off to his room, but something stops him.

The room is cool and vibrant with the same sort of energy that he’d felt in his dream the night before. It calms him, dampens the irritation he felt at Lucifer’s response to his comment.

Sam looks up, his eyes skimming over Lucifer’s face. The skin along his forehead and cheekbones is flaking, peeling and red, a sharp contrast to how he’d appeared to Sam the night before. Sam’s eyes drop to where Lucifer’s hands rest on the table. They have the same sort of damage. Lucifer sees him looking and drops his hands down into his lap, covering them with the tablecloth.

Lucifer’s smile is a genuine attempt at warmth, though it does not reach his eyes this time. Sam realizes he’s been staring at the sores on Lucifer’s face and he looks away.

The silence stretches out awkwardly for a few more minutes until Lucifer clears his throat. “Would you like a drink, Sam?”

“I’ll just have some water.” Sam picks up his napkin and unfolds it, worrying one corner. He’s become completely engrossed in the energy in the room. It pulls at him and swirls around him, craving so much of his attention that he finds himself barely listening to Lucifer’s words.

“You should consider this your home.”

Lucifer’s voice pulls Sam out of his fog. “I have a home,” he objects, and Lucifer purses his lips, nodding.

“And you gave it up so that your brother could be safe,” Lucifer says softly. “That was very impressive.”

“I didn’t do it to impress you.” Sam wants to say more, but something invisible washes over him and the words die in his throat. The air in the room seems to shift and coil around him, almost burrow into him. He breathes deep, but the air feeds the flame that’s been lit deep inside him and doesn’t help at all.

Lucifer nods again, and after a moment Ruby appears with a pitcher of ice water. She’s changed out of her jeans and t-shirt from earlier into a short-sleeved black shirtdress. She smiles at Sam as she sets it down next to him.

“We made roast beef,” she says. “We weren’t really sure if…”

“If Sam would be joining me for dinner,” Lucifer interjects. “Neither was I. It was a pleasant surprise when you told me earlier.” Lucifer smiles when he turns his attention to Sam. “Roast beef sound good? Potatoes, vegetables, there’s probably a sauce. Is there a sauce?” he asks, looking up at Ruby. She nods and Sam shifts uncomfortably in his chair. The whole scene is weirdly domestic. Lucifer’s demeanor is light-hearted and friendly, catching Sam off-guard.

Ruby lifts the lid off the silver platter placed between them on the table and takes it with her when she heads back towards the kitchen. Sam watches her go, then reaches for the pitcher.

“Allow me.”

Lucifer stands and moves around the table, standing close to Sam as he pours. He smells of frozen earth and campfires, and something else that Sam can’t place. He is the source of the chill in the room, as if he’s just come in from a long walk on a winter’s day. 

Sam sits perfectly still, staring down at the glass as it fills. He reaches forward to pull it closer and his arm brushes against Lucifer’s. Sam’s head snaps to the side. He fully expects to see blue arcs of electricity jumping from Lucifer’s skin to his own, but there’s no visible evidence of the sensation dancing along his skin.

“Ruby is a beautiful girl,” Lucifer comments conversationally, returning to his seat. Sam stares down into his glass and doesn’t reply. “Come on, Sam. I was the first one to witness lust when Eve bit into that apple. You think I don’t know it when I see it?”

Sam sits with his hands in his lap and tries not to stare at the food in front of him. He’s hungry; he’s barely eaten for more than two days but at this point he feels like he’s already accepted too much from Lucifer, who sits quietly and waits, watching Sam.

“Just eat something, Sam. This isn’t a Greek myth. You won’t be in my debt.” 

Sam side-eyes him and relents, leaning forward towards the loaf of bread. He slices off a piece for himself and slouches back into his chair. “Aren’t you going to eat?” he asks as he bites into the bread. It’s still warm, and Sam quickly finishes it.

Lucifer draws a breath in through his mouth and shakes his head slowly, once. “I don’t eat. I don’t need to.”

Sam pauses, mouth hanging open. He sits back in his chair, eyes narrowed.

“So, what? You’re just going to sit there and watch me?”

Lucifer’s mouth opens and closes wordlessly, and his eyes drop to the table in front of him. “I just want to see that you’re enjoying yourself. I want to spend time with you.” 

Sam pushes his chair back and stands abruptly, tossing his napkin onto the table and scrubbing his hands on the thighs of his jeans. “That’s creepy. I’m going back to my room.”

Lucifer begins to stand. “Sam, you have to eat.”

“Not like this I don’t,” he answers.

He turns to leave, but Lucifer stops him, grabbing his wrist. It’s the same motion as the night before in Sam’s dream, and the effect is the same, if not even more intense.

“What is that?” Sam demands, looking down at Lucifer’s hand, then up into his eyes.

Lucifer cocks his head to the side and smiles, and Sam can feel it in his chest, a biting curl that blossoms inside him and makes him forget that he was leaving. Part of him wants desperately to stay, to keep feeling this and to understand how to get more of it.

“It’s my grace,” Lucifer says gently, watching Sam with that same intensity. “My grace and your soul recognize each other. They want to be together. Let me in and it will be even better.”

He presses his fingertips to Sam’s chest and Sam leans into the touch, then shakes his head to clear it.

“Never,” Sam growls. He wrenches his arm from Lucifer’s grasp and weaves his way past the table and out the door.

Lucifer moves to stand in front of the fireplace and surveys the table. Ruby returns with two bottles of beer dangling between her fingers. Her shoulders droop as she looks from Lucifer to the empty chair.

“What happened?”

“Tomorrow we set two places,” Lucifer sighs.

Ruby whispers an “oh” under her breath. “He’ll say yes,” she says, sounding more confident than she looks.

Lucifer nods. “He’s been thinking about it. Has he said anything to you?”

Ruby shakes her head.

Lucifer looks towards the door and sighs. “He’s been through so much. I want to make this easy for him. You should follow him,” he says, looking down at Ruby. She moves to set the bottles on the table but he shakes his head. “Take those with you.” 

“Okay,” she says, giving Lucifer a weak smile before leaving.

Sam storms up the steps, his boots heavy and echoing on the wood. He closes the door behind him and strips the button-down off as he paces back and forth in the expansive room. He blows his breaths out hard through his nose as he tries to calm down. Lucifer’s grace had been like a tidal pull. Part of him mourns the loss of it, and part of him fights against that feeling, tells him it’s wrong and sick. He shouldn’t long for Lucifer’s touch. It shouldn’t feel right and his skin crawls as he remembers the pleasure he’d felt when Lucifer smiled.

“What?” he shouts, exasperated, when there is a knock on the door. It opens barely more than a crack and Ruby peeks in.

“Can I come in?” she asks.

“Why?” He sits heavily on the edge of the bed and starts pulling off his boots.

Her face disappears, replaced by a hand holding two bottles of beer, and Sam laughs a little.

She pushes the door open and closes it behind her, walking to meet him where he’s sitting on the bed. She hands him a beer and he tilts it as a thank-you. 

“Sam, you gotta understand-“

“No, I really don’t.” Sam rubs at his arms and Ruby snaps her fingers. A fire flares to life in the fireplace, bathing the room in light.

“Can you fix the electricity in this place, too?” he quips.

“He’s not used to humanity,” Ruby continues. She kicks off her shoes and tucks her feet underneath her when she sits down next to him on the bed. “To people.”

“Oh, well, in that case let me go apologize. Except no, because he’s locked me up here, away from everyone I care about.” 

Ruby sighs and takes a pull on her beer. “I know you won’t believe me, but he’s sorry it has to be this way.” Sam continues to brood silently, so she bumps against him with her shoulder. “You know, you’re missing out. I make great roast beef.”

Sam lifts his head to look at her and rolls his eyes. She smiles at him and after a moment he smiles back. Ruby holds out her bottle and Sam taps his against it.

“To trying again tomorrow?” Ruby suggests.

Sam shakes his head and sighs. Ruby shifts next to him and reaches out, turning his head so that they’re facing each other. “We could always pick up where we left of this morning,” she whispers, leaning in to close the distance between them.

Ruby smiles when he returns the kiss, tilting her head when Sam cups her cheek with his hand. Sam settles his other hand on her waist and pulls her closer, draws her into his lap.

He breaks the kiss and takes a drink from his beer before plucking hers from her hand and reaching to set them both on the nightstand. The next kiss is wet and cool and Sam trails his lips along Ruby’s jaw, one hand moving slowly up under the hem of her skirt.

Ruby straddles his hips and presses her body closer, draping her arms around his neck as Sam kisses down her neck and along her collarbone.

He takes his hand off her thigh and trails both hands up along her sides, cupping her breasts and kissing between them. He presses them together and slicks his tongue in the cleft, looking up to meet her eyes. He drags his teeth along the skin there and Ruby rocks her hips softly in his lap.

He unbuttons her dress all the way down and pushes the soft fabric down her arms. She slips out of the dress and lets it fall to the floor behind her. He unhooks her bra and that, too, lands on the floor by his feet. Her breasts are small and round, and Sam drags a thumb lazily over her left nipple while he presses his tongue flat against the other, then licks at it, kisses it. Ruby tangles her hand in the hair on the back of Sam’s head. She arches her back but tucks her chin down so that she can watch him lavish her breasts with attention.

“Come on,” Ruby groans and forces her hands down between them. She manages to get his belt open before he lifts her and lays her down on the bed so he can stand. He strips efficiently, his eyes roaming over her body as she hooks her thumbs into the strings of her panties and pushes them down her thighs to kick them off.

Sam climbs onto the bed and spreads her legs wide, pressing her thighs apart with his hands. “I’ve been thinking about your body all day,” he whispers as he sets one elbow down next to her head and kisses her fiercely, all teeth and stabbing tongue, while his other hand moves up her thigh. She returns the kiss in kind, one hand on the nape of his neck while she drags her nails down his side. His fingers brush through the coarse hair there, teasing, making her hips buck.

“Fuck,” he growls against her mouth when he strokes her with two fingers, long, solid strokes against her clit. Ruby pants his name and paws at his arm, at his hip, at anything she can reach.

“You like that?” Sam purrs, and all she can do is nod messily when he pushes two fingers into her, still working her clit with the pad of his thumb. He pulls out and thrusts in again and again, and her hips in time with his hand. “I want to fuck you, Ruby.” He hisses, lips pressed flush against her earlobe.

“Sam, please,” she pleads, and he slides his fingers out and sits up onto his knees.

Ruby squirms further down on the bed, watching as Sam strokes himself back to full hardness. She raises her arms up over her head and he holds her wrists in place with one hand while he guides his dick into her with the other.

Sam pushes all the way into her, using his other hand to grab her ass and lift her up off the bed so he can thrust harder. “Oh, God, Ruby. You’re so wet.” His filthy litany turns into a stream of groans as he fucks her faster and faster. She twists her wrists in his grip but he doesn’t let her loose.

“Fuck. Sam, oh fuck.” Ruby’s voice goes high and thin, and she squeezes his body with her thighs. “Right there. Yeah.” She presses kisses into his collarbone, sucks at the skin until she leaves red welts, and when she comes, body clenching tight around him, she sinks her teeth into his chest hard enough to leave marks, his body muffling her cries and moans.

Sam’s hips stutter, his thrusts turning erratic. He screws his eyes shut and pushes in as far as he can when he comes inside her, a sharp exhalation marking every twitch. He presses his forehead into the covers next to Ruby’s head and frees her wrists. She wiggles her fingers then brings one hand down to card it through Sam’s hair. She turns her head to the side and presses a kiss to Sam’s sweat-soaked temple.

He rolls off of her and stretches out beside her on the bed. Ruby shifts onto one side and rests her head on his shoulder, one arm wrapped around his chest. She pulls the covers up over them from her side of the bed and tangles their legs together, and Sam falls asleep with his nose in her hair. Her shampoo smells like vanilla and flowers.


	6. I Feel The Birth Of Doom

Sam rubs harshly at his hair with the towel, then his arms, chest, and the rest of his body in turn. His skin is pink from hot water and scrubbing. He brushes his teeth until they ache and when he shaves it’s rushed and sloppy. His jawline is flecked with bits of bloody paper when he finally leaves the bathroom.

Early morning light streams in through the uncovered windows and he squints when he looks out over the garden. The leaves and branches sparkle with a thick frost, even the roses which are stubbornly thriving in the chill. They’d been brown and leafless when Sam had looked over the garden yesterday but today they’re green and vibrant. From where Sam stands near the windows he can tell that it turned much colder last night.

Not that you could tell from the state of Sam’s bed.

He’d woken up alone, any evidence of Ruby’s presence the night before gone from the room. No clothes, no beer bottles, and for Sam it was just as well. He’d been agitated and on edge when Ruby came to him last night, his body still thrumming after contact with Lucifer’s grace. It had been even more intense in reality than in his dream and he’d turned to Ruby searching for a similar connection. It had been good, but not the same, and now he’s left empty and disgusted with himself.

_A demon._ His skin crawls and he rolls his shoulders, trying to shake off the feelings pressing down on his lungs and turning his stomach. He dumps the bags with clothes out on the bed and picks through them, tossing shirts and socks to one side until he finds a blue and green flannel shirt that feels enough like him to keep him from wanting to set it on fire.

He glances at the fireplace, then back down at the pile of clothes. It would be a waste, but he can’t deny the desire to get rid of every last trace of her from his room. Frustration mixes with shame until his eyes sting with tears. He scoops up the clothes and drops them into the trunk at the foot of the bed.

When he opens the lid of the trunk, the books Ruby had left him slide down onto the floor. He leans down to pick them up, planning on putting them out of sight with the clothes, but then he sees what they are.

One is a tattered paperback copy of Milton’s Paradise Lost. He thumbs through it, then rolls his eyes and tosses it into the open trunk. Sam’s read it before and nothing in it will change his mind now. If anything, it feels like a cheap attempt on Ruby’s part to sway Sam’s opinion.

The other is a copy of Lord of the Rings. It’s hardcover and in considerably better condition than the Milton classic. He closes the lid on the trunk and sets the book on top of it.

Once dressed, he strips the sheets and blankets off the bed, piling them near the door and resolving to ask for new ones the next time someone comes into his room.

Sam had tried the door when he woke up, as always. This morning it had been unlocked, but the idea that sex bought him freedom was enough to keep him from venturing out into the halls. The house wasn’t big enough for him to move around freely and not run into Ruby or Meg.

Or Lucifer.

Sam picks up the Tolkien and stretches out on the sofa, his feet hanging off one end. He doesn’t know how many times he’d read the adventure when he was growing up, before his reading became more practical, and before reading about magical creatures and the war between good and evil had slipped from the realm of fantasy to reality.

He tries to let his mind sink down into the book but he can’t focus for more than a couple of pages before thoughts about the night before push themselves to the front of his mind. One minute he hears Dean’s voice in his head, furious at him for his lapse in judgment. He can see his father with tears in his eyes, telling him for the hundredth time that a demon killed their mother. What would they think of him now?

The guilt and the shame he feels only intensify when the images in his mind change to dark hair fanning out on his pillows and skin shining with sweat in the firelight. He feels his body reacting to the memories and squirms on the sofa, blowing a deep breath out through his nose.

Strangest are the flashes of blue eyes, cold and curious, talking of lust. Lucifer had been nothing like he’d expected, and all the more frightening for it. A monster who wanted to torture him, to force him to submit: that was something Sam could deal with. But the compassion and sympathy he’d expressed had shaken Sam. He’d spoken of grace as if he was any other angel, and when they touched Sam felt an undeniable pull towards him. It’s an attraction, and it’s dangerous to want anything from Lucifer.

The sun rolls past the windows in his room, turning the light from the bright white of morning to the more golden tones of midday, and he’s allowed to read completely uninterrupted. Sam glances at the door occasionally. The idea that he could go out plays at the edge of his mind but he ignores it. He doesn’t want to see Ruby, to hear her explanations for disappearing before he woke up, for not coming to see him all day. He’s the prisoner here; he shouldn’t have to go looking for his jailers.

Sam stands and stretches, watching as the sun dips down below the trees, coloring the sky with vibrant shades of pink and orange.

There is a knock at the door. Sam sighs but doesn’t bother to turn away from the window. “Yeah, come in.”

The door opens slowly and Lucifer steps into the room. Sam knows it’s him without turning around. The room goes cold and bright at the same time, and Sam feels something tug at him. He’s turned and taken two steps towards Lucifer before he stops himself. It would be so easy to go to Lucifer, take his hand and revel in the connection between soul and grace, but Sam can’t let himself.

Lucifer stops just inside the doorway, his eyes moving around the room, from the pile of sheets by the door to the unmade bed and finally to Sam himself. He smiles knowingly when meets Sam’s eyes, and Sam looks away.

“I didn’t expect you to come here yourself,” Sam stammers, flustered by his own reaction.

“I wanted to see you again,” Lucifer says plainly. “I thought I’d come by personally tonight.”

He’s watching Sam closely, and Sam feels scrutinized, as if it’s clear on his face that he’s struggling. Every time he finds himself in Lucifer’s presence it’s harder to ignore the desire for a deeper connection.

“I had hoped to see you outside your room today,” Lucifer prods when Sam fails to comment. Had he hoped Sam would seek him out, be coaxed closer to him in search of fulfillment?

“I stayed in reading,” Sam mumbles, nodding towards the book still lying opened over the back of the sofa. He feels exposed under Lucifer’s gaze. It’s ludicrous to think that Lucifer doesn’t know what happened last night. Sam doesn’t want to be seen standing among the evidence, but the alternative had been to leave his room and he hadn’t wanted to risk a meeting with Lucifer. Even now he feels the tidal pull of Lucifer’s grace, and any plans he may have had about refusing a dinner invitation are crumbling.

Lucifer hums and moves further into the room, picking absentmindedly at a sore on his jaw. He looks worse, with deep circles around his eyes and a dark vein running down under the collar of his shirt. He picks the book up, slipping his thumb in between the open pages so as not to close it. He tilts his head down to examine the cover. “Tolkien,” he says thoughtfully.

“It’s about a war against a dark lord who wants to cover the earth in his shadow.” Sam watches Lucifer for his reaction.

“There’s also an elf who gives up eternal life in order to be with the man she loves,” Lucifer replies, raising his eyes but not his head so that he’s looking at Sam through pale lashes. “I thought we could try again,” Lucifer says, straightening and setting the book back on the sofa. “I came to ask you to have dinner with me, please.”

“You can’t just sit and watch me,” Sam insists, as if his agreeing wasn’t already a foregone conclusion.

“No, I understand that,” Lucifer concedes. “That was a mistake. Tonight I will be an active participant.”

“You know Lord of the Rings but don’t know that people are expected to eat?” Sam is incredulous.

“I knew you had to eat. I didn’t expect you to... _care_ whether or not I did.” Lucifer lets the word hang between them.

“I don’t,” Sam starts, but that’s not entirely true. It had bothered him. “It wasn’t about the food.”

Lucifer raises an eyebrow. “In any case, I will endeavor to be a better companion this evening. That is, if you’ll be joining me?”

“Yes,” Sam pushes the word out from between clenched teeth. He’s uneasy saying it, despite all of Lucifer’s reassurances.

Lucifer is beaming now, blue eyes sparkling as he gestures towards the door in an awkward little bow that would be endearing on just about anyone else. “After you.”

Sam walks past Lucifer towards the open door and starts off towards the dining room. Lucifer follows behind, walking quickly to catch up to Sam. The power of his grace increases the closer he gets to Sam. He overtakes him at the bottom of the stairs and holds the door open. 

Sam steps into the dining room and Lucifer places his hand gently on the small of his back, guiding him to the table. Sam is awash in sensation, and at the back of his mind a question forms, dismissed almost immediately after he thinks it. If this simple touch can feel so good, what would something more intimate feel like?

Tonight there are two places set and a pitcher of water already stands on the table when they arrive.

“Well,” Lucifer says, rubbing his hands together as they sit, “I think I would like wine with dinner. Sam?”

“Uh, yeah, okay, I guess so,” he replies, having barely heard the question. Without the distraction of Lucifer’s touch, Sam is able to think more clearly, and he chastises himself for being so weak. It was only wine, but he’d agreed without thinking, and that was exactly what Lucifer wanted. Sam takes a deep breath and tries to focus. He’ll eat and go back to his room, nothing else.

Ruby comes out with a bottle of wine. She smiles when she sees Sam, but it fades when he looks up at her, stony-faced and impassive.

“I’m glad you’re here, Sam,” she says, laying a hand on his arm. He pulls away under the pretense of unfolding his napkin and spreading it over his lap.

She hands the bottle to Lucifer but watches Sam with a concerned expression. Sam mutters a thank you under his breath and gives the napkin in his hands all his attention until she turns and leaves.

Lucifer turns the bottle over in his hands, and then shrugs. “I have no idea if this is any good or not. For all that I get the blame for inventing vices this is really more His sort of thing.” He pulls the cork out with a pop and pours wine for both of them.

“When you say him, you mean Him as in God, don’t you?” Sam asks.

Lucifer nods. “Dear old dad,” he says dryly.

Sam gives a tiny laugh, looking down into his glass.

“A toast,” Lucifer says, raising his glass, “to fathers and their constant pressure to make their children conform.“

It’s all Sam can do to simply stare at him for a moment before he raises his glass and clinks it against Lucifer’s.

“Cheers,” Lucifer says, watching Sam drink before he takes a sip of his own wine. He wrinkles his nose. “Is this how it’s supposed to taste?”

“I think so,” Sam says, looking down into his own glass. He’s used to beer and whiskey, but he’s had wine before and more or less matches what he remembers it tasting like.

Lucifer looks thoroughly unimpressed, frowning at his glass as if it has offended him.

They sit in uncomfortable silence for a while, each sipping on their wine. “How is your room?” Lucifer asks. “Comfortable?”

“Actually, it’s really kind of cold,” Sam admits. “And the electricity doesn’t work,” he adds. “I mentioned it to Ruby last night…”

“I’m sure you did.” Lucifer is amused, and Sam goes cold as he realizes what he’s said. He reaches for his wine glass and drinks deep.

“You can sleep in my room,” Lucifer suggests. “It has lights and heat and-“ Lucifer’s enthusiasm for the idea is interrupted when he looks over at Sam. “Unless you wanted to share with someone.”

Lucifer is watching him over the rim of his wine glass, and there’s humor in his eyes. It’s good-natured teasing but Sam is left speechless.

“No! I- but- you…” Sam sputters and gives up with an embarrassed sigh.

“I don’t sleep,” Lucifer reminds him. “It’s unnecessary for me to have such luxurious accommodations when you don’t. I wish you’d said something sooner. The thought that you’ve been uncomfortable is unacceptable.”

Sam shrugs. “I’m used to sleeping in the passenger seat of a car. I’ve had worse.”

He falls silent, immediately regretting the comment and its implications.

“Do you miss your brother?” Lucifer says quietly.

“Yeah, of course. But you told them not to hurt him.” Sam rushes to remind him, looking to Lucifer for confirmation that he’s kept his word.

“I did, and they haven’t.” Lucifer reassures him, and Sam nods gratefully. He wants to ask for proof, something more substantial than Lucifer’s word, but every question he would ask requires him to share information of his own. The sigils Castiel carved mean that Dean is hidden from Lucifer, and that might be the safest place of all.

Lucifer watches him for a moment, then looks into the fire, his face blank. “I miss my brothers too.”

Sam turns his head and looks at Lucifer. He opens his mouth to speak. “I,” he tries, but then stops again with a sigh. “I never thought of that.”

“Most people don’t,” Lucifer says with a shrug. “I mean, when you left to go to Stanford, you could still pick up a phone and call if you wanted.”

“I never did.”

“But there’s a comfort in just knowing you could. I was never given that option.”

Ruby and Meg come in then with plates of pasta with meat sauce and a basket of warm garlic bread. The smell alone is enough to make Sam more certain that agreeing to give dinner – and Lucifer - a second chance was the right decision.

“I asked them to make something that I wouldn’t embarrass myself trying to eat,” Lucifer explains as Ruby sets deep dishes of corkscrew-shaped pasta in front of them. “They told me there could be spoons and twirling involved and…” He holds up his hands and shrugs helplessly.

“This is fine,” Sam replies. “Thank you,” he says to Ruby as she turns to go, and is rewarded with a smile that lights up her face.

“Do you never eat with them?” Sam asks as he refills his wine glass. Lucifer does a good job of hiding how he’s watching Sam and mimicking his motions, but Sam sees how he hurries to finish his own wine and take more.

“I don’t normally eat at all, and they deserve a little time to themselves, too.”

They eat in silence for a while. Lucifer stabs at his pasta with more force than strictly necessary, but he seems more pleased with it than he was with the wine. Sam forces himself to eat slowly. The bread he’d taken the night before had been just enough to remind him how hungry he really was, but he doesn’t want to make himself sick after days without food.

It hadn’t occurred to Sam that any of this would be new or foreign for Lucifer, but he’s understood from Castiel that angels don’t eat, and they probably don’t teach table manners in Hell.

Sam reaches for the basket of garlic bread. He takes one for himself and goes to set the basket back on the table but reconsiders. He holds it out to Lucifer. “Want one?”

Lucifer has barely eaten, preferring to observe Sam out of the corner of his eye. Now he looks at Sam with astonishment and nods as he picks a piece out of the basket. It’s a small gesture, but the smile it draws from Lucifer is genuine and Sam is pleased by the reaction.

“Thank you, Sam,” Lucifer says warmly. “Your father did a good job teaching you etiquette.”

“My father taught me to hide the cutlery in my sleeves and take it with us when we left,” Sam replies. “I learned this stuff watching movies alone in motel rooms.”

The corner of Lucifer’s mouth quirks up into a smile. “It can’t have been easy for you, being on your own so much.”

Sam shrugs. “I was angry with my father for a long time, but now I realize that he was just trying to do what he thought was right.”

Lucifer considers Sam for a moment. “If you could do it all again, would you still go to Stanford?”

“Yes,” Sam answers without hesitation and at that Lucifer smiles.

Meg comes out with another bottle of wine. Sam hadn’t even realized that the first one was empty. Lucifer’s glass is still half-filled and Sam is feeling the effects of wine and rich food.

“Oh, no thank you Meg,” he says, holding up a hand when she starts to hand the bottle to Lucifer to open. “I should probably call it a day. This is more than I’ve had to eat for the better part of the week. I still have to make it up the stairs.”

“I can help,” Lucifer volunteers, and something about the offer makes Sam grin and laugh nervously.

“Thank you, but no,” he says, surprised at his sudden shyness.

“Well,” Lucifer says, rising up out of his chair. “I guess this is goodnight, then.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam replies, placing his napkin on the table and standing. “Thank you for dinner.”

Sam turns to leave but Lucifer lays a hand on his arm to stop him. The combination of wine, food, and the fireplace have made Sam warm and drowsy. Lucifer’s hand is cool and Sam welcomes the sensation of grace cutting through the haze of food and wine to twist its way inside him. He wonders what it would be like to feel Lucifer’s hands on his face, and if every part of Lucifer is as cool as his hands.

“You sure you can make it back on your own?” It’s an unnecessary question, but Lucifer pitches his voice low and his grace pools low in Sam’s belly, and Sam knows now exactly what he’s asking. Sam would not have Lucifer within a mile of his bedroom right now, but the answer sticks in his throat and all he can do is nod.

“Sam, will you give your consent and be my vessel?” All of Lucifer’s attention is focused on Sam now, but Sam feels more comfortable with the intensity.

Sam takes a shallow breath. “No, I won’t,” he answers.

Lucifer sighs deeply and nods. His hand slips from Sam’s wrist and Sam shivers as Lucifer’s grace recedes, leaving him dull and hollow.

“Good night,” Lucifer says. “Thank you for the company.”

Lucifer follows Sam to the door and holds it open. He mutters a good night as he passes Lucifer in the doorway, meeting his eyes for a moment before walking away towards the stairs.

Ruby is leaning against the door to Sam’s room, wearing striped pajama pants and a tank top. She grins when she sees him and Sam is reminded of the contempt he’d felt for his own reflection this morning.

“How’d it go?” She asks. Sam pushes past her and opens the door to his room. “Sam, wait!”  
He turns around in the doorway.

“What, Ruby?”

“I haven’t seen you all day.”

“It’s not like you didn’t know where to find me,” he sneers. Ruby tries to follow him into his room and he stops her at the threshold. “Don’t.”

“What?” she asks coyly. “Didn’t have a good time last night?”

Sam sighs and looks past her at a point on the far wall.

“Is it the demon thing?” Ruby hisses, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. Sam is silent and unmoving, so she continues. “Did my eyes turn black when I came, moaning and panting underneath you?” She’s standing on tiptoe, straining to whisper in his ear. She rests one hand on top of his on the door frame.

Sam swallows and turns to meet her eyes. She licks at her lower lip deliberately and he sucks in a ragged breath.

“Are you upset because you could tell, or because you couldn’t?” She rubs circles on the back of his hand with her thumb, and when she leans closer his other hand goes to her waist without thinking. She presses her body against him and he moans softly. “I’m just a girl who wants you, Sam. Everything else is bullshit and excuses.” She slips a hand between them, rubbing his erection through his jeans.

“Look at me,” she says forcefully, and he does. “Do you really think I’m evil?”

He shakes his head and leans down to kiss her. She wraps her arms around his neck and he half-pulls, half-carries her into the room with him.

At the top of the staircase Lucifer watches them go, then turns and climbs the stairs his own room.


	7. This Moment For The Keeping

After that first dinner, the days start to fall into a strange sort of domesticity. The next day Sam’s things are moved up to his new room at the top of the stairs. It’s bigger and warmer, and becomes a gathering place as the more formal dining room is abandoned for the little table and chairs off to one side. Sam still spends the majority of the time in his room, but occasionally he makes use of his newfound freedom to stretch out on one of the sofas on the bottom floor. 

It’s little more than a change of scenery while he reads, closer to the kitchen and with more opportunities for chance meetings with Ruby. Meg will sometimes stop to make a disparaging comment on Sam’s taste in literature, but for the most part they ignore each other.

The first time Lucifer drops down into the sofa beside Sam, he immediately closes his book, stands, and walks to his room. He shuts the door behind him and paces the room, taking deep breaths until he’s all but forgotten the way that Lucifer’s grace had draped itself around his shoulders like a cloak.

Lucifer sits beside Sam the next day, and the next. It takes a week before Sam decides to stay, gripping his book so hard his knuckles turn white. Lucifer settles back into the couch and leans over slightly, looking at Sam’s book with innocent curiosity. Their knees bump, and Sam feels Lucifer’s grace trail up along the inside of his thigh before fanning out. It settles there with a feeling that comes disturbingly close to arousal, and Sam shifts uncomfortably, separating them again.

“You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?” Sam grumbles, rolling his shoulders and trying to find a position that will allow him to be in close proximity to the wisps of Lucifer’s grace that reach out to him without actually touching the angel. It’s a difficult balancing act, made both easier and more difficult when Lucifer stretches an arm out so that it’s resting behind Sam on the couch. He crooks his elbow and rests his fingers gently on the exposed skin of Sam’s nape. Grace flows down his spine, before spreading slowly to the rest of his body. His muscles relax and he gives a small sigh as the tension drains out of him.

He refuses to call it a defeat. Lucifer seems to need this as much as he does, so he’s not taking anything from him. Sam reassures himself that it’s an even exchange, that there’s no harm in this small gesture. There is so little in his life that has made him feel this whole and this wanted. 

He even manages to convince himself that he’s the one taking advantage of Lucifer, since he has no plans of offering anything in return, and he cannot imagine that Lucifer is benefiting from this simple touch as much as he is. This is how he justifies it to himself when he leans back against the cushions until the back of his neck fits easily in Lucifer’s hand.

They sit that way the rest of the afternoon. Sam gives up on even trying to read, and if Lucifer notices that Sam doesn’t turn a page for hours, then he doesn’t comment.

It becomes part of their routine. Sam on the sofa, Lucifer close by with his fingers curling in Sam’s hair, neither one of them talking about whatever subtle shift it is that’s taking place. Sam will read for hours, or just sit and let Lucifer’s grace wash over him. 

During the day they sit together silently, but every evening Lucifer joins him for dinner, and what quickly turns into a nightly discussion.

It’s the book of Genesis as told by someone who was there to witness it, and at times Sam can’t help but find himself caught up in it. He watches as Lucifer tries to illustrate the swirling cosmos with his hands, his eyes distant as he describes colors and movements that Sam can barely imagine. His voice and face are more animated than Sam’s ever seen when Lucifer talks about the creation of the heavens and the Earth, how all the angels had gathered around it and praised it.

“It was the most perfect thing our father had ever created,” Lucifer says wistfully. “More perfect than any of us. And then He gave it to you,” he adds, his tone turning venomous. He glares down at the tabletop and Sam looks away, finishing his meal in silence as Lucifer’s grace looms dark and ominous around them.

Sometimes Ruby joins them, and on those nights the talk is often of demons of renown. Ruby’s eyes light up as Lucifer describes Azazel and Alastair, how they were created and trained. She rests her chin on her hands and watches Lucifer with unadorned wonder when he speaks of the End of Days, how demons will walk the Earth when humanity is destroyed. She smiles and he cups her cheek, calling her “my child”. 

Sam sits in silent horror and wills the evening to end as soon as possible. These glimpses of their true purpose disturb him, and in the end he stops asking Ruby to stay and sit with them, preferring it when she joins him later, alone in bed.

Ruby’s visits become less frequent as Sam spends more and more time with Lucifer. She is everything he could ask for him a woman, but he’s left feeling dissatisfied and hollow, and when she curves her body around him afterwards he longs for the cool, electric touch of fingers trailing lightly along his neck.

Another night Lucifer tells him about Lilith. His eyes go soft as he describes the feeling of no longer being alone in Hell, how he’d longed to create a partner for himself.

“It wasn’t about twisting souls. Not at first,” he explains. “I was just so lonely. But He saw what I’d done and I got upgraded to a VIP suite. Lilith wanted more of her own kind, this new being that I’d shaped from a human soul. She was supposed to populate Earth together with Adam, and that instinct to be fruitful and multiply still existed, even in the pit.”

Sam is surprised and moved by the emotion Lucifer shows when he speaks, realizing later that for Lucifer this is not about religion or preaching; he’s simply telling Sam about his life. These are things that he’s lived through. He has loved and lost, been punished and forced out of his family. It stirs something inside Sam, a strange sense of camaraderie and a desire to know more.

At first Sam only listens, hurrying through his meals in order to have his room to himself. Lucifer is capable of speaking at length on many subjects and often it took only a couple of well-placed questions from Sam for him to start expounding on ancient history. One evening is devoted entirely to what Lucifer would have named the birds and beasts in Eden if he’d been given the opportunity. It turns into a lesson in Enochian vocabulary, with Sam carefully forming syllables and words, and Lucifer smiling like a proud teacher.

After a while Sam starts asking more pointed questions. There are things about which he is genuinely curious. He asks about every angel whose name he can recall, though he’s careful not to name Castiel. 

Lucifer has little to say about most of them, not remembering them or not having known them well, but Sam drinks in the information anyway, asking questions just to keep Lucifer talking. 

Sam asks about Gabriel, and Lucifer speaks warmly of a little brother that tagged along everywhere, always wanting to help and to know what Lucifer was doing. When Sam names Michael, Lucifer is reticent, his gaze turned inward.

“I love him,” Lucifer finally offers. “I miss him, and the next time I see him it will be to kill him, or die trying.”

Sam nods and doesn’t ask again, lost in his own thoughts as he thinks of Dean for the first time in days.

The topics cover history, religion, philosophy, and Sam is often surprised by Lucifer’s knowledge and opinions. He finds himself looking forward to these evenings more and more.

It happens that Lucifer grows frustrated by his inability to explain. He has seen every color ever imagined, watched when God brought the universe into being, and there are not always words for the things he wants Sam to know. The first time he reaches for Sam’s hand to show him what he wants to describe, Sam shies away and refuses. Lucifer frowns and places his hand palm up on the tabletop.

“I just want to show you what I’ve seen, Sam,” he insists with the pervasive gentleness that Sam has come to associate with him. It’s thin and shifting, and at times like this Sam can see the power brooding just beneath the surface. 

The air in the room seems to crackle and Sam recalls the sensation of Lucifer’s hand wrapped around his wrist. Lucifer had explained how they were meant for each other, his grace and Sam’s soul pushing and pulling at each other in equal measure. Sam would never admit out loud that he’d missed that feeling, but it’s longing that makes him slide his fingers over Lucifer’s palm until their hands fit neatly together. 

He is keenly aware that this is deliberate contact, that he’s actively agreeing to it, and it feels more loaded than all the hours they’ve spent beside each other on the couch. Sam can’t feign disinterest here.

Sam sees Lucifer smile before his eyes flutter closed and his head is filled with images. He hears Lucifer speak, but it comes to him from far away as he drowns in the sensation of Lucifer’s grace twining through him as he stands in the center of a newborn star. 

He soars over Eden, supported by Lucifer’s wings, taking in the sight and smell of flowers that stopped existing a millennium ago. The most perfect music fills the air around him and he is bathed in the love and glory of the Host as they stand with their Father, beholding his greatest creation, a beautiful, unblemished Earth. Sam is rocked by the sense of peace and clarity of purpose he feels when he looks down at it. 

He swoops down, plummeting through the sparkling black of space and the near-impenetrable heat of Earth’s atmosphere. Cool clouds wash over him and his eyes scan from side to side as he tries to take in as much as possible. 

Lucifer shows him people: there are meetings, births, and deaths. He watches the second World War play out right in front of him, follows a steamer ship over the ocean, and suddenly he’s in Kansas, standing in his own nursery, watching his parents watch him. Dean runs in and John scoops him up, pointing down into the crib.

It’s over in a second. The nursery fades from his mind and he blinks slowly. Every cell in Sam’s body is ringing with the intensity of the experience, and tears roll down his cheeks. He’s absently surprised to find he’s not glowing. His fingers are intertwined with Lucifer’s now, gripping his hand so hard that he’s trembling from the effort. Lucifer moves to pull back his hand but Sam doesn’t let go. He stares at Lucifer with glassy eyes as he gasps for breath, still reeling from everything he’s just experienced. Lucifer nods and gives Sam a sad smile, leaving their hands locked together.

“What was that?” Sam’s voice is a harsh whisper in the dark, quiet room.

“That was everything that had to happen for you to be born. Every decision, every little nudge and intervention that made you exist, Sam. That set the path that brought you here to me.”

This too becomes a daily ritual, and neither Sam nor Lucifer object when it becomes commonplace for them to sit at the table together, holding hands and talking.

The only thing that never changes is how evening ends. Every night, Lucifer asks Sam if he will consent to being his vessel.  
And every night, Sam has refused.


	8. Apocalypse Woman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now less cute and fluffy.

Every cell in Sam’s body is crying out in protest, reminding him with aches and cold sweats that there is a reason he does not drink red wine. His mouth is cottony, and he’s certain that time itself is being stretched and drawn to make him as miserable as possible. 

He fumbles blindly for a moment, relieved to find that he’s alone in bed. He pushes his face down further into the pillow. Sam had asked Lucifer’s opinion of modern Satanists and the conversation had worn on almost until dawn.

“You alive there, champ?” Meg calls as she pushes the door open with one foot.

“What do you want?” Sam groans, his voice muffled by pillows.

“Brought you breakfast in bed,” she says. “Sort of. Given the time of day I would call it lunch, but…” 

She keeps up a cheerful, sarcastic commentary as she walks into the room and sets the tray down on the end of the bed, then starts opening all the curtains. The sun is obnoxiously bright, and this room has a wall made up almost completely of high windows that flood the room with light.

The smell of food makes Sam grimace. He does his best to smile gratefully when she sets the tray down. He doubts it was convincing, but he also doubts that her concern is sincere, so he figures it balances out. He flops over onto his back and forces himself to sit up, tucking the blankets around his waist. The room spins briefly and he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes.

“You are a wreck, Sammo,” she tuts as he rubs at his face and tries to focus. “Ruby must have pretty low standards.”

Sam rolls his eyes and picks up a piece of toast. He’s slept alone every night this week so far, and he doesn’t doubt that Meg knows it.

“Can you come back and do this later?” he asks.

“Nah. It’s more fun when you’re too screwed to fight back,” she fires back, but she’s already headed towards the door. “Come find us later, sport,” she chirps.

“Thank you, Meg. Goodbye, Meg,” he mocks. She leaves the door open, but Sam can’t be bothered to go up and close it.

She brought scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, coffee, orange juice, and white pills that Sam assumes are for his headache. He eats slowly, but after a few bites his appetite starts to return and he finishes it all without a problem. He moves the tray down onto the floor before rolling over and going back to sleep.

The extra rest does him good. Sam wakes up feeling like a person again, and vows to himself not to drink any wine tonight.

He showers, dresses, and resolves to not spend the day in his room. He takes the tray with him and goes downstairs, planning on leaving it in the kitchen. As an afterthought he tucks a book under his arm, with the vague idea of reading downstairs on one of the couches.

The stairs creak and groan and Sam is forced to duck his head to fit under the low ceiling. He goes down the stairs and through the dining room. The kitchen is off to one side through a door. It’s big and surprisingly modern, with a stovetop set into an island in the center and ovens built into the cabinets. It’s all surprisingly normal. There’s even an herb garden on the windowsill.

He leaves the tray in the kitchen and goes back out into the lobby. The early afternoon sun is choked back by thick clouds, and the light that fights its way through seems to drift in through the high windows. There is a large, low table with couches and chairs grouped around it, and an iron wood-burning stove in the corner.

Sam sets the book on the table as he takes it in, but he can’t settle down. The house isn’t that large and he has yet to see anyone since he left his room. He tries the front doors again. They’re unlocked, and he opens them wide, marveling at the fresh air and the breeze.

Out in the garden the roses look even healthier than they did the day before. Sam squints as he looks out, surprised to see buds forming amidst the dark green leaves. Everything else in the garden is still brown and wilted, having given up for another year, but the roses thrive despite the cold. He resolves to ask Ruby about them the next time he sees her.

He could run. He could leave all this, he thinks, but somehow it’s too easy, and he stops with one foot over the threshold. There was a time not all that long ago that he would’ve gladly taken this chance, but now it’s somehow enough for him just to know that it exists. He feels safe here, and when he asks about Dean’s safety he believes Lucifer. He’s stopped worrying for Dean, and he’s stopped worrying for himself. He misses his brother, but he would miss this too if he just walked away from it.

Sam shuts the doors again.

“Ruby? Meg?” he calls as he climbs up the stairs, keeping a look out in case they appear on the floor below. Lucifer’s name he says much lower, but there’s no answer to any of them, so he leaves it and turns towards the room he used to occupy.

Meg is slumped against the wall outside his old room, one arm cradling the other to her chest, and her hair hanging down over her face.

“Hey Meg, what’s going on?” Sam asks as he approaches her. Her arm is wrapped in a thick, white bandage, and when she lifts her head her face is pale and sunken. The light overhead casts shadows over her eyes and cheekbones, exaggerating the effect.

“Oh, this is… this is nothing,” she says, trying to pull the arm of her jacket down to cover the bandage.

Sam’s not convinced. “Are you hurt?” He reaches for her bandaged arm but she pulls it away.

“No,” she answers, too quickly. Sam moves past her to go into the room and she grabs at his arm as he passes. “It was an accident, my fault. You can’t go in there. Dammit, Sam!”

He pushes the door open with his shoulder and sweeps the room with a glance. It’s unchanged from when he occupied it. The curtains are drawn back from all the windows, and the fireplace gapes dark and empty. Lucifer’s chill makes the room even colder. He is sitting on the edge of the bed with Ruby beside him. One arm is curled in her lap, her hand loosely gripping a small knife. Her other arm is extended and pressed to Lucifer’s mouth. 

Sam smells it before he sees it, the rich, coppery smell of blood fills his head as he crosses the room. He doesn’t understand where it’s coming from. There’s a drop or two on Ruby’s knife, nowhere near enough to mix with the cold air until the room seems thick with it, sulfur and sin mixed together.

Sam sees a trickle of blood running down over Ruby’s pale skin, starting at the corner of Lucifer’s mouth. Her eyes go wide with panic when she sees Sam rushing towards her. She pulls her arm away and Sam can see the gash, red and wet and smeared in Ruby’s haste to pull away from Lucifer. There’s something awful and tempting about it that makes Sam’s mouth go dry.

“Sam, what are you doing here?” she blurts, her gaze following him as he crosses the room.

Sam’s eyes settle on Lucifer, on the red stain on his lips, and for a moment he’s frozen, unable to answer. The smell makes his stomach turn, but he’s also dizzy with it. He can’t tear his eyes away, and when Lucifer’s tongue snakes out to lick at the corner of his mouth, Sam mirrors it, can almost taste the metallic tang of the blood.

The sores on Lucifer’s face are now scabbed and healing, and the dark circles around his eyes are lessened, evened out. There is shame in his eyes when he glances up at Sam, then lowers his eyes and looks away.

“I never wanted you to see this. I can explain,” Lucifer says. He sounds quiet and defeated, but even so his voice is like a crack of thunder, rousing Sam from his dumbstruck waking nightmare. Grace lashes out at him like a whip, and Sam goes cold as he realizes how close he’s moved to them, almost close enough to touch Ruby. It would be a simple movement to pull her up by the wrist and press the open wound to his mouth, let his tongue run over it. Satisfy his curiosity.

“Oh god,” Sam breathes. He puts his hands up, backs away, and rushes from the room.

“Sam, wait!” Ruby shouts, the cry cut off as Sam slams the door behind him and leans against it, chest heaving and eyes wild.

“I told you not to go in,” Meg mutters matter-of-factly, her head still resting on the heel of her hand. Sam glances at her, then bolts for the door.

“Hope you liked the glimpse of your future, Sam!” She shouts after him.

Sam turns on the spot and points at the door. “He can send an army of demons after me and Dean but he’s not just going to keep me here so he can use me like that.”

Meg sighs and watches him go. “Stop. Wait,” she calls in quiet derision before dissolving in delirious giggles. She moves to follow him but stumbles and sits heavily on the top step instead.

Sam doesn’t return to his room for his coat. He runs straight through the hall, barreling down the steps and across the lobby. The front doors aren’t locked anymore; he’s trusted now. He sneers at the thought as he throws them open and heads out into the rain.

The thorns from the rosebushes catch and pull at his clothing as if trying to keep him there, but he ignores the branches and storms up the gravel drive. Once past the rustic wooden fence lining the edge of the property he breaks into a run. There is a clear path leading straight from the house out into the woods. Like everything else it’s overgrown and abandoned, but still clear enough that Sam can follow it.

Sam gulps in huge breaths as he runs, and with every puff of steam he exhales, his head clears and the dangerous temptation lessens. Ruby’s blood had called to him, a twisted sort of siren song with a dark pulse that was nothing like grace, though almost as strong. The sour taste of bile rises at the back of his throat and he stops to spit, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand before he takes off again. He and Dean have sliced open demons before and he’s never felt a pull like that. He can’t explain it, and he doesn’t want to understand it. He just wants to put as much distance between them and him as possible.

It’s raining hard and his t-shirt soaks through quickly. He pushes wet hair back out of his face as he runs, his breath coming out as clouds of steam that he leaves behind. Something small scurries out of his way and at the edge of his vision a flock of birds explodes up into the air, scared off by his flight through the forest.

It had been too good to be true, and as Sam runs he berates himself for ever thinking that they could be anything other than monsters. He’d gotten soft under Ruby’s attention and the intoxicating connection he shared with Lucifer. He’d forgotten that he was still dealing with demons and the devil, and that deep down they are only capable of terrible things. 

Meg had said that that was his future. Sam doesn’t know how, and he has no desire for an explanation. He feels betrayed. He trusted them, and all this time they’d kept this secret, even with everything else they’d shared.

The snap of branches and the sound of heavy footsteps tell Sam that he’s being followed. He looks back over his shoulder time after time but sees nothing. He picks up his pace and veers off the path and into the trees. He doesn’t know where he is, but sooner or later there must be a road, and where there’s a road there’s civilization. He’ll hitchhike or walk if he has to.

The cold air burns in his lungs and his legs ache. He stops for a moment to catch his breath, resting his hands on his thighs and letting his head droop.

Something moves in the corner of his eye. A sapling shudders and leaves scatter away from nothing, like wind rushing towards him. He turns to see but moves too late. Something strikes him hard in the side and sends him sprawling onto the ground, sliding in moss and wet leaves. He comes to a stop only just missing a jutting rock that’s dangerously close to his forehead.

He struggles to turn over but something hits him with incredible force between the shoulder blades. He rolls onto his stomach and fights to breathe, all the air knocked from his lungs by the attack. He swings out blindly with an arm, landing a blow against nothing. There’s a growl and hot breath on his neck and face as he tries to get onto his back, but the force is too strong.

Sam screams as claws dig into his flesh and rake down his back. He feels warmth spreading over the cool skin of his back. His vision goes white with pain. The hot, metallic smell of his own blood reaches him and he fights against the need to vomit. He breathes in shallow gasps and scrabbles at the earth around him, anything to try to gain purchase and get away. 

Whatever it is that’s attacking him grabs hold of his leg. He feels something snap and he roars, his voice echoing in the woods. Hot tears well up in his eyes as he kicks futilely with his other leg. He grits his teeth together, hissing and panting even as he grows weaker.

Suddenly the pressure on his leg is gone. It flops uselessly back down to the ground and Sam bites back a cry. There is a bark, then a wet snap behind him. He struggles to push himself up on one elbow to see what’s happening, but then Lucifer is there, kneeling next to him and filling his field of view.

Lucifer’s expression is panicked as he looks at Sam, cups his face with one hand.

“It’s okay, Sam,” he says, his voicing shaking. “You’re safe now. I can fix this.”

Sam’s protests are weak and slurred as he slips into unconsciousness.


	9. My Hope, The Destroyer

A hand rests gently on Sam’s shoulder when he tries to move, and pain rips through his leg when he bends his knee under the blanket.

“You’re still weak and healing. Lie still. If there’s anything you want, just say it.” Lucifer’s voice comes to him as if through a fog.

“Water,” Sam coughs. His mouth is dry to the point of being tacky, with his tongue sticking to the roof.

“You and your water.” Lucifer’s reply is droll but warm.

The bed dips as someone sits beside him. A straw bumps against his lips and a strong hand cradles his skull, guiding him as he drinks. It’s Lucifer’s hand, Sam realizes as the cool of his skin spreads along the back of Sam’s head. He drinks as much as he can stand, then sighs as he lies back against the pillows.

He’s back in his room. Lucifer rescued him and brought him back here, and Sam is bitterly disappointed with himself that he failed to get away.

“What the hell happened?” Sam grits out, trying again to push himself up to sit higher. His leg burns with the effort, and the skin on his back feels sore and tight. He wants to run again, but this time he’s in no condition to go anywhere.

“How much do you remember?”

Lucifer is hesitant, and at that Sam’s eyes flicker open. He looks at Lucifer, who is sitting on the edge of the bed. His hand resting next to Sam’s almost close enough to touch. Sam’s hand twitches as if to pull back, then he smooths out the blanket instead.

Lucifer looks awful. Everything that had begun to heal when Sam saw him last has burst open again, and there are new sores on his forearms. His lower lip is split, and Lucifer worries at the dark strip with his tongue. It’s an oddly human gesture that stirs something in Sam’s chest, especially when he sees Lucifer’s red-rimmed eyes.

“What happened to you?” It comes out before Sam can stop it. He chastises himself for showing any concern at all for Lucifer, but it had been Lucifer who appeared from nowhere to rescue him from his unseen attacker, and he can’t help but feel a pang of regret at the idea that he might have caused whatever it is that’s happened.

Lucifer doesn’t answer. He just keeps looking at Sam like he’s something precious.

“You saved me,” Sam says quietly, avoiding the concern in Lucifer’s expression. It had been much easier to be horrified and desperate when he was alone in the forest, running from a monster with blood between his teeth.

“That hellhound would have killed you,” Lucifer reflects.

“And that would be really inconvenient for you, seeing as how you want to wear me and all.” It comes out harsh and Sam regrets it as soon as he’s said it, but he’s determined to put up a fight, and all the anger he’d felt earlier is bubbling to the surface again.

Something flickers in Lucifer’s expression but he says nothing.

“Why didn’t it kill me?” Sam pushes.

“Because I got there in time,” Lucifer says. “They attack anything that isn’t Meg, Ruby or I, and you’re still a prisoner here,” Lucifer answers with heat in his tone to match Sam’s accusations. “You tried to escape and you were chased, but they were never supposed to be that aggressive towards you. Meg has modified her instructions for them.”

A sofa has been dragged to the foot of the bed. Ruby is curled up in one corner under a blanket, her head pillowed on her arm. Meg is also sleeping with her legs stretched out in front of her and crossed at the ankles.

“Ruby’s been up here the entire time,” Lucifer remarks, following the line of Sam’s gaze to where it lands on her face. “She’s been worried sick. She cares about you and you scared her.”

“You drink demon blood.” Sam keeps his eyes on Ruby’s face. Even asleep, she looks worried and exhausted, and Meg’s words come back to him. “Meg said that was my future,” he continues when Lucifer doesn’t answer him.

“Did she?” Lucifer muses, as if he’s tucking away the information to use it later. “I am very powerful. Any vessel that’s less than you is just a temporary solution. Meg and Ruby give of themselves to help me keep from burning through him too quickly. Things any other angel can do without thinking bring me that much closer to combusting.”

Sam turns to look at him, taking in the damaged skin and sunken eyes. “Because this guy isn’t your true vessel?” He asks. There is no lore on this. Sam supposes no other angel has this much trouble convincing their vessel to say yes.

Lucifer nods. “The damage goes more quickly and needs more upkeep because he is not you, and this will never be as good as you and I together.” His tone is almost apologetic.

“I’ll never say yes.”

“You would have to start before, but you weren’t ready to know yet.” Lucifer continues on as if he didn’t hear Sam speak. “I never wanted you to see me like that.”

“You could have told me,” Sam protests, trying to push himself up on his pillows. Lucifer moves to help him but Sam waves him off. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was enamored by the idea that you’d stopped hating me. I didn’t want you to start again.”

“I don’t hate you,” Sam answers immediately, surprised at his own insistence. It’s true. He’d been shocked and disgusted by what he’d seen, even more so by what he’d felt, but he can't hate Lucifer for it. It's not the angel's fault that he needs it.

“Why did I-“ Sam makes an aborted start, unsure whether or not he actually wants an answer to the question. “I could smell it. Part of me wanted it. Why did I want it?”

“You’re my true vessel, and being exposed to my grace has awakened that part of you. You’ll have to have it in your system when you said yes. You were given a taste for demon blood in your nursery that night. Nick wasn’t-“

“You remember his _name?_ ”

“Is it so difficult to believe that I can be compassionate?” Lucifer stares him down, and Sam doesn’t answer. “I didn’t want you to know until you agreed to say yes. I thought you’d find it… distasteful.”

“So this is just another way that everything in my life has been engineered to make me your vessel.”

They’re both silent. Lucifer watches Sam, who in turn glares at the blanket covering his leg. He wants nothing more than to leave again.

“It just another way that you’re special,” Lucifer offers. “It would make you stronger, more powerful.”

It takes a moment for Sam to answer. “How?” He asks slowly. He’s still not sure he wants to talk about this, but Lucifer has never forced him to do anything, and if he’d wanted to, he could’ve done it when Sam walked in on them instead of letting him run.

“Remember those psychic powers you had? Even better. You could kill demons with your mind.”

“So I could kill Ruby and Meg and escape again.” He wouldn’t, but he points it out anyway as a small measure of rebellion. It’s a way to test Lucifer’s trust in him.

“You won’t,” Lucifer replies, and Sam knows he’s right. “Now that you know about it, you might as well consider it.”

Lucifer gives Sam a weak smile. “You are my _true vessel_ , Sam. You are made for me and together there is nothing we wouldn’t be able to do. But to take you as my vessel could erase all that you are. You’re worth more to me than that.”

“You must be happy to have me back, then,” Sam mutters, “so you can keep pressuring me to say yes.”

“Do you really think that’s the only reason I saved you? Don’t you realize we care about you?” There’s disbelief in Lucifer’s voice, so honest and exposed that Sam’s defenses fall again. He wants to believe that Lucifer cares about him, that he and Ruby are capable of that kind of emotion, and here at his bedside it’s practically written on Lucifer’s face.

Sam shifts uncomfortably and avoids looking at the pain in Lucifer’s eyes. Now he’s as angry with himself as he was with Lucifer. It was stupid of him to run, and now he’s bedridden and paying for it. Provoking Lucifer into a fight might seem satisfying, but it won’t make him feel any better. It’s not the kind of comfort he wants. He wants to go back to not knowing, but that’s impossible.

Sam moves his hand so that his fingers trail against the edge of one of the open sores. Lucifer’s hand curls into a fist on the blanket and Sam stops, but leaves his hand lying on top of Lucifer’s, a weak attempt at starting reconciliation. 

“This,” Sam says, nodding towards the sore on the back of Lucifer’s hand, “is because you healed me, isn’t it? You did this to yourself to save me.”

Lucifer shrugs and looks down at his hands. “It was worth it.”

“Is it painful?” Sam asks.

Lucifer laughs, but it’s a sad, humorless sound. “Oh, Sam. I’ve been in pain ever since I was cast out of Heaven. The worst agony imaginable. Compared to that, this is an itch.” He flexes his free hand, watching the skin and tendons with fascination. “Being in the wrong vessel is a small pain in comparison, but it will all of it improve when you say yes to me. Now, you should try to sleep,” he says as he stands and turns to go.

“You could make me,” Sam points out, reaching out to catch Lucifer’s wrist. He can feel Lucifer’s grace reach out to him, and he realizes how much he’d missed that, how much he would have missed it if he’d managed to get away.

Lucifer turns and gently places his fingertips on Sam’s forehead. “Do you need me to?”

Sam shakes his head and lets his arm fall down onto the bed. Lucifer pushes the hair off of Sam’s forehead before taking his hand away. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to Sam’s forehead, then turns without a word and heads to the door. Sam watches him go with a steady gaze.

“Thank you for saving me.”

“If you’d died, I just would’ve gone into Hell and brought you back.” He tries to make it sound casual and fails miserably. 

The admission stuns Sam. He would never have anticipated that level of devotion from Lucifer, to return to the place he was exiled to, just to save him. Hell is everything that Lucifer hates, and Sam is only a man. He’d never considered that he might be worth something to Lucifer in any other context than a vessel, but the sincerity in Lucifer’s voice leaves him wondering if there’s more to it than that.

Lucifer lingers in the doorway for a moment, then leaves. Sam watches until he can no longer hear Lucifer’s footsteps on the stairs.

Sam sleeps for a while after Lucifer leaves. When he wakes up, Ruby is gone, but Meg is still on the couch, feet propped up on the foot of his bed, glaring at him.

“What the hell were you thinking?” She starts in on him as soon as he makes eye contact, and now Sam feels like he can have the argument that he couldn’t bring himself to have with Lucifer.

“He was drinking her blood,” Sam protests. “And yours too! He keeps you two around to feed on!” He hisses. “And he says I could do it too,” he adds much more quietly. He doesn’t doubt she knows, but he doesn’t want to dwell on it. He’s had enough trouble pushing it from his mind since his conversation with Lucifer.

Meg stands and moves closer to him, fire in her eyes. 

“We stay because we serve him. We give him our blood because we _love_ him and hate seeing him suffer,” she insists. “You gave him your word,” Meg reminds him angrily. “Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Oh my god. _Dean,_ ” Sam gasps. “Is he okay? What did you do to him?”

“You scare the crap out of the king of Hell, damn near get killed by a hellhound, and you’re worried about your brother?” She asks, furrowing her brows.

“That was the deal,” Sam explains, panic rising in his voice. He’s still too injured to go anywhere, and he’d been so preoccupied when he’d woken up earlier that he hadn’t thought to ask. “I go with Lucifer, Dean stays safe.”

Meg laughs. “Your brother was never in any danger. I mean, no more than the usual crap he gets up to. Was that really what you thought?”

Sam can only nod dumbly, confusion warring with worry and fear.

“No, Sam,” Meg reassures him, her voice unusually warm. “Lucifer wanted to bring you here to protect you, and when you ran he panicked. But you were the only one who ever thought your brother was part of the deal.”

Sam frowns and his eyes drop to the blanket in front of him. He’s beyond relieved to know that his escape attempt hasn’t put Dean in danger, but he thinks back on all the time he spent worrying about his brother’s safety and feel betrayed to know that it had been in vain. He had given his word, had agreed to stay to keep Dean safe, and he’s embarrassed at having broken a promise, even if he was the only one keeping it. He refuses to apologize to her for running.

“He was scared?” Sam finally asks.

“You were too busy bleeding to death to really notice, I guess. Here, look!” There’s rising desperation in her voice, like she needs Sam to understand. Lucifer had said that the hellhounds were her responsibility, and it occurs to him that she was probably punished for what happened to Sam.

She points towards the windows, and Sam cranes his neck to see, hissing as pain shoots down his back. The trees are scorched and damaged in a wide radius around the building. Any trace of color is gone, leaves blown off the parts of the forest that remain standing.

“He did that?”

Meg nods emphatically, rubbing a hand over her face. “That, and a freak tornado, and a tsunami that somehow managed to hit an unpopulated part of the West Coast, so only fifty people died.” She counts off on her fingers, and Sam’s stomach drops more with every disaster Meg names. “The terror of the Morningstar.”

Sam can’t believe it. He would never have imagined Lucifer expending that kind of energy on an emotional reaction. “Because I ran?”

“Because you ran _from him._ ” She sets her hands on her hips and gives him a pointed look. “You’re lucky you didn’t get far. If he can’t find you then he can’t protect you.”

“Protect me? From a hellhound?” Sam knows that the sigils on his chest keep him hidden, but he’d barely gotten out of sight of the hotel, and even then it had been more rescue than protection.

Meg rolls her eyes. “No, idiot. From The Host. You are Lucifer’s true vessel. There are angels who would think nothing of tearing you atom from atom and spreading you out across the universe so that he can’t get to you, but here, with him, you’re safe. Do you get that yet?”

“You told me he only wanted me here so that he could possess me!”

“It’s all connected,” Meg insists, waving her arms emphatically. “If you’re here, then he can keep you safe until you say yes. Out there in the big, wide world, any angel that can find you can grab you and rip you apart so that he will never be able to put you back together. We’re not the only ones that can set traps.” She turns to face the window, looking out over the destruction. “This is what he does when he thinks that might happen. Imagine what he would do if it came to pass.”

Sam doesn’t know what to say, so he watches her shift nervously in front of the window. She’s silent for a moment, then she turns away and strides briskly towards the door. She’s almost shaking with anger.

“You are the most important thing to him. Don’t abuse that fact.” She says it like a final warning, storming out of the room before Sam has a chance to respond. 

It’s more emotion than Sam has seen from Meg in all the time he’s been here. She doesn’t care about him directly. Sam’s accepted that; he doesn’t really give her much thought either, and they’ve stayed out of each other’s way. But she’s incredibly loyal to Lucifer, and Sam is worried that his hurting Lucifer has made an enemy of her, and will make his time here that much more difficult.

He looks back out towards the window. Lucifer had been afraid of losing him. He had admitted he cared about Sam, that he meant more to him than just a vessel. It’s a lot to take in. Everything Sam had felt before he tried to escape is still there inside him: the growing sense of connection with Lucifer, the peace and pleasure he felt in spending time with him. Sam doesn’t want to lose that. He’d been disgusted and frightened that day, but now he feels sorry for Lucifer, even guilty for his part in the angel’s suffering. He’s grateful to Lucifer for saving him, but it’s still not enough to make him give his consent.


	10. We Are Without Excuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that gives the fic its tags for bloodplay and dubcon. I love these characters and only want them to be together when everyone is truly invested, but this could be read as dubcon.
> 
> That said, it's in its own chapter so that you can skip it if this isn't your thing. It will be referenced later on, but not explicitly, and you can still follow the plot without it.

The days pass in flashes. Ruby comes by with food and helps him eat, kissing him as a reward for eating a whole meal. They talk, and after a couple of days that crease between her eyebrows disappears when she comes to visit him. She’s been uneasy and withdrawn since Sam came back, and it bothers him to know that he hurt her so deeply.

On the third night she slips into his room just as the sun sets, dressed in her pajamas. He holds up the covers and she climbs into the bed, and into his arms, without a word.

“I thought you wanted to leave me,” she whispers, fitting her head under his chin and pressing their bodies together.

“It wasn’t about that,” he answers reassuringly. He rubs circles on her back and pulls back to plant a kiss at her hairline. They still haven’t really talked about it, but with every passing day it feels less raw. Sam’s not forgetting, and he doesn’t think anyone else is, either, but it’s passing.

She props herself up on one elbow and looks at him with a frown. “You spend so much time thinking about how we’re different, that you don’t see how alike we are.”

“It scared me. I thought he hurt you.” Sam cups her face in his hand and she leans into the touch, closing her eyes.

Ruby shakes her head and kisses Sam’s jaw, dragging her mouth along the stubble. “We have to get you out of this bed so you can shave.”

“In the morning,” he mumbles sleepily. 

She blinks slowly, smiling when she looks up at him. He smiles back and her and cups her cheek with his hand, tilting her head back to meet her lips, licking into her mouth. She closes her eyes and kisses him back, running her fingers through his hair.

He pushes a knee in between her thighs and grips her by the waist. Sam rolls onto his back and takes her with him so that she’s straddling his thighs. He skims his hands up her sides and she strips her tank top off, tossing it onto the floor. She moans softly and arches her back, pressing her breasts into his palms. Sam’s hands are big enough to cover them completely. He’s rewarded with a gasp from Ruby when he gently pinches one of her nipples between two fingers.

Ruby leans down to kiss him again and for a long time that’s all they do, mouths working against each other, using lips and tongues to apologize without words. He maps her body with his hands, trailing his fingers along her spine and tracing her ribcage. Her hair spills down around them, falling down on his shoulders and filtering out everything that isn’t the two of them.

Slowly her hips start to move in a gentle, uneven rhythm. She lifts her hips and moves back down the bed, her eyes never leaving his as she pulls his underwear down and then off his legs.

One leg is healthy and normal. The other is still covered in deep bruises and an ugly half-circle of puncture marks. She sits back on her heels and looks at it, holding her hand just above but not touching it.

“Sam,” she starts, unsure how to continue.

“I’ll be fine. You and Lucifer did a good job,” he says, sitting up on his elbows to look at her.

She frowns at him as he pushes himself into a sitting position. He piles pillows behind his back and leans against them, then reaches for her. Ruby crawls back into his lap, straddling one of his thighs, careful of his injured leg.

Sam kisses Ruby again, deep and hungry. He lets his hands skim over her body, and she moans, quiet but encouraging. She bites at his lower lip, drags her nails down his sides, anything to try to provoke a reaction, but it’s not working. Ruby’s body is warm and soft. She’s sensual and attractive, but Sam feels like he’s just going through the motions. She presses their bodies together and rocks against him, mouthing kisses along the side of his neck. He breathes in the scent of her, closes his eyes and tries to empty his mind of everything but the thought of being with her, but something’s missing.

The temperature in the room drops and he feels his body respond. Ruby stills, and he can feel her eyelashes along his jawline. He squeezes his eyes shut and swallows hard, but the combination of Lucifer’s grace filling the room and Ruby tight against him leaves him hopelessly aroused.

“He’s not here for me, Sam,” Ruby murmurs, and he feels it more than hears it. He takes deep breaths, feels the way the cool air seems to pass through his lungs and spread to the rest of his body. 

Drunken college experimentation that had allowed Sam to figure out what enjoyed pales in comparison to what he is being offered now. His partners had always been human; the adage “what’s inside that counts” takes on an entirely new meaning here.

He opens his eyes. Lucifer is standing in the doorway watching them both. Sam’s instincts kick in and he leans past Ruby, grabbing at the sheet to pull it up around her and cover them both. Pain flares in his injured leg and out of the corner of his eye he sees Lucifer start forward, then stop himself.

“Did you plan this?” Sam growls. He feels Ruby shift against his neck but the movement is too little for him to tell if it’s a nod or not.

“He wants this as badly as you do,” she whispers.

It’s not an answer to his question.

Sam does want it, even after everything that’s happened. That’s the worst part of it. He’s gotten used to the feeling of Lucifer’s grace, and when it’s not there he’s too warm: twitchy and feverish. He feels content just having Lucifer in the room, but he knows it could be even better. He’s thought about what it would be like to let Lucifer embrace him, touch him with more purpose, more skin on skin, but now that he’s presented with the opportunity he falters.

“You want this?” he breathes, looking to where Lucifer stands just inside the door.

Lucifer nods, his eyes trailing over every inch of Sam’s exposed skin. 

“Why?” Sam asks. It makes no sense. Lucifer is as old and powerful as the universe, bright and brilliant and so far above the filthy desires of humans that Sam would never have expected him to show any interest at all. 

But Lucifer has made a habit of defying Sam’s expectations.

“Because it’s you,” Lucifer answers in a low voice, taking a cautious step further into the room. His gaze is dark and intent, meant for Sam alone.

Ruby moves back on the bed, bundling the sheet around her. “I should go,” she whispers.

“No,” Sam says, reaching out to cover one of her hands with his own. He wants this, but he’s afraid, and Ruby is an anchor, something to keep him from falling too deeply and doing something he might regret, saying something he can’t take back. 

Ruby watches, silent and wide-eyed, as Sam motions Lucifer closer. He crosses the room with quick strides to stand beside the bed. There is the whisper of fabric on skin and Sam lowers his eyes, suddenly bashful and unsure where to look. Ruby arches an eyebrow at him, a silent question, and he gives her a quick, nervous smile as an answer.

Lucifer’s fingers graze along the back of Sam’s neck. It’s what they’ve established as safe, acceptable contact, and Sam leans back into the touch, welcoming Lucifer’s grace. He sees a stretch of pale skin at the edge of his line of vision. Lucifer leans down, moving pillows out of the way until there’s a space behind Sam.

The bed shifts under the extra weight as Lucifer slots himself in behind Sam's back. He stretches out his legs along the outside of Sam’s, and they’re pressed flush, back to front.

It’s everything Sam’s imagined and more. He swoons, letting his head drop back against Lucifer’s shoulder. Instead of points of contact there are planes, all of them alight with sensation, and it’s almost more than he can bear. Grace swirls around him and through him until his entire body is tingling, cradled and connected. 

He feels Lucifer’s breath against the side of his neck and he reaches up, burying his fingers in Lucifer’s hair and pulling until Lucifer’s mouth is pressed to his skin, sending a current through his body straight to his dick. He’s already hard and his hips shift when Lucifer mouths at the tendons on his neck.

Ruby is still sitting awkwardly at the end of the bed, sheets pulled up around her. Sam looks down at her with dark, hooded eyes. She meets his gaze and bites at her lower lip.

“Ruby,” he sighs. She gives him a sly smile and he reaches for her.

Ruby moves forward, kissing her way up the inside of Sam’s uninjured thigh. Her breath is warm on his skin and in his hair and Sam rolls his hips, sighing loudly when she brushes her lips over the head of his dick.

She works her way up his body, kissing his stomach and chest before finally meeting his lips again. Sam pants into her mouth, reveling in the contrast of her heat and Lucifer’s chill pressed against him. He grabs at her hips and pulls her closer.

There’s a fresh cut on Ruby’s palm. It runs from between her first two fingers almost down to the heel of her hand, and it catches Sam’s attention when she cups his cheek. He wraps a hand around her wrist and brushes his thumb over the scab, focus tightening down until he swears he can hear the blood in her veins.

“Did he do this?” Sam asks.

Ruby shakes her head. “This morning, in the kitchen. I was cutting fruit.” She watches him nervously, but doesn’t try to pull her hand away.

“It won’t hurt you,” she offers, catching her lower lip between her teeth as she watches him stare at her hand. “It won’t hurt me either. I bet you’ll like it.” 

His eyes flick up to meet hers. Lucifer had spoken of more power, and the part of him that had been curious and drawn to it surges forward in his mind, urging him on.

It must show on his face, because Ruby tears her gaze away to look at Lucifer, as if for guidance.

“ _Sam._ ” Lucifer’s voice is a soft warning, and his hand reaches forward, grabs Sam’s wrist. “There’s no going back if you do this.”

Sam’s mouth is dry again, and he can feel his pulse racing, but he nods understanding. Lucifer’s grace is shifting and curling around him. He’s swimming in it, but it’s not enough to distract him from the way Ruby’s blood compels him. 

He scratches at the edge of the scab with a dull fingernail until a bead of fresh blood wells up, black in the darkness of the room. Sam can smell it. He can feel his throat tightening as he imagines it, warm and heavy on his tongue.

“I want to know. I want to,” Sam pants, licking his lips, pressing them together and sucking in deep breaths through his nose.

Ruby shifts forward on the bed, and Lucifer lets go of Sam’s wrist, wrapping his arm around his waist instead.

“I won’t force you,” Lucifer promises, but Sam just shakes his head. This is his choice.

He adjusts his grip on her wrist, pulling her hand forward until it’s less than an inch from his face.

He licks at the drop of blood where it threatens to spill over and glide down her skin. It’s not enough to coat his tongue, and when he tries to swallow it just spreads in his mouth, sticking to the roof.

He presses the flat of his tongue to her skin, drags it over the scab, finally giving in and nipping at it until it breaks open again, blood pooling against his teeth.

He sucks and swallows. It’s warm and bitter and tastes like blood, but there’s more to it. There’s the caustic bite of sulfur, and something that reminds him of bitumen. It makes him imagine Ruby’s blood running thick and dark down his throat, and for a moment he thinks he’s made the wrong decision.

At first he feels no change at all, and he’s prepared to stop, to push Ruby off of him and fight them both for lying to him. Then it starts, a dull burn in his muscles like after a workout, when he feels most alive. His blood pumps harder and every part of him seems to vibrate with strength and energy. He almost expects to see his muscles stretching and growing under his skin. He is only marginally aware of a hand carding through his hair and Lucifer murmuring in his ear.

The energy whips up a storm inside him. He feels his chest heaving, his aggression rising with it. He feels wild, restrained only by the pull of Lucifer’s grace. Sam wants to push Ruby down onto the bed and take her hard. He wants to make her scream his name and leave his mark on her skin. It’s incredible.

The hand in his hair tightens and he realizes that he’s sunk his teeth into the fleshy heel of her hand. Sam pulls back and licks up along the length of the cut. When his tongue snakes between Ruby’s fingers she lets out a little moan before pulling her hand away.

“Not too much, not at first,” Lucifer cautions him. Sam can already feel the effect fading, but he sees on Ruby’s face that she’ll side with Lucifer.

Sam swallows again and again, focus widening back to the room around him. Lucifer’s body is cool against his back and Ruby is watching him intently. She gives him a tiny smile, then presses her bloody palm to her breast, leaving a dark stain on her skin.

Sam digs his fingers in along her ribcage and pulls her close, ducking his head to lathe his tongue around her nipple, then up along her skin, licking at the trail of blood. Ruby arches her back and laughs low in her throat when Sam’s mouth fastens to her skin. He sucks and kisses, pressing with his tongue to get every last drop. His head is filled with the smell and the taste of it, and the feeling of power it gives him.

Lucifer’s hands roam over Sam’s sides. “I want to know every inch of you,” he tells Sam, his tone reverent as he pushes his nose in behind Sam’s ear and kisses him everywhere that he can reach. 

Sam nods messily, breaking the kiss with Ruby. He wants everything Lucifer will give him, but at the back of his mind he knows he must be careful with how much he gives in return.

Ruby shifts down the bed again and Lucifer takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around Sam, trailing his fingers over Sam’s stomach. He brushes a thumb experimentally over one of Sam’s nipples, purring against his neck when Sam whimpers in response. Everything Lucifer does to him is accompanied by the thrill of grace around him and inside him, making it run deeper and feel sharper. 

Sam’s never been so hard in his life, and when Ruby lathes her tongue around the tip of his dick he has to concentrate not to come. She wraps her hand around him and strokes slowly while keeping just the tip in the circle of her lips. Sam blows a breath out hard through his nose when she takes him further into her mouth, and she glances up at him with dark eyes.

He starts to thrust up into her mouth but she splays a hand on his hip to steady him as she bobs her head up and down. Her other hand strokes his perineum and massages his balls. Sam sighs and moans, letting his head drop back again. One hand cradles her head, not pushing but just holding, fingers tangling in her hair.

Lucifer’s breath is shallow and uneven by his ear. “I want to give you everything, Sam,” he murmurs, and Sam turns his head to look at him. Lucifer’s eyes look dark in the low light of the room, pupils blown wide as he gazes at Sam.

Lucifer is moving behind him, his hips just barely hitching, and Sam realizes that he’s aroused. He can feel where Lucifer’s erection is pressed against his back, and he’s pushed even closer to the edge by the idea that he’s affecting Lucifer just as much as the angel is affecting him. 

He lowers his hips and pushes at Ruby’s shoulder. She pulls off him and sits back on her heels, looking up at him. Her lips are swollen and her cheeks are flushed, and she gathers her hair so that it hangs over one shoulder.

Ruby is wicked, dark and sinful. Lucifer is awesome, powerful and righteous. 

Sam is caught between them, worshiped by both.

Sam slides down the bed towards her and is rewarded with a hiss from Lucifer at the shifting contact between them. He swears under his breath when he tries to bend his injured leg, and Lucifer is there immediately, soothing him until he pain is gone. 

Ruby strips off her pants and moves forward to close the distance between them, leaning down to mouth at the tattoo on Sam’s chest. He runs a hand through her hair, pushing it out of the way so he can watch her lips on his skin. He takes her breasts in his hands again, dragging his thumbs over her nipples as she moves to kiss his collarbone.

This time when their mouths meet the kisses are hungry, bordering on desperate. Sam bites at Ruby’s lower lip but she pushes back just as hard, wedging a hand between their bodies to stroke his erection. Sam groans and rolls his hips shamelessly in time with her hand, and behind him he feels Lucifer picking up the rhythm as well.

Sam is all but lying down in bed now, draped over Lucifer’s stomach and thighs. Ruby sits back and straddles his hips, and Lucifer’s hands are on him again, spread wide over his chest.

Sam grips Ruby’s hip with one hand and curves his other arm up behind him until his fingers are tangled in Lucifer’s hair. He can’t get enough of either of them. He lets his eyes fall closed and basks in the warmth of Ruby pressed against his chest and the unusual chill of Lucifer along his back. 

“Fuck, Sam,” she pleads, pushing against him. He obliges, rocking his hips up to enter her in one smooth motion. A short, high sound escapes from her as she settles down against him. The hand that she has resting on his arm tightens, her fingers pressing white marks into his skin as he pulls out and thrusts in again, matching her slow, even pace.

“I’ve been waiting for you for so long, Sam,” Lucifer whispers, his lips stirring Sam’s hair. “Longer than you could know.” The stubble on his cheek drags along the palm of Sam’s hand, and Lucifer turns his head to press kisses to the skin there. Sam can feel Lucifer’s erection trapped between them, rubbing against his warm, sweat-slicked skin. It’s an awkward angle but Lucifer doesn’t seem mind.

The thought skitters across Sam’s mind that he’d like to know what it takes to make Lucifer warm. If he could make Lucifer sweat. 

Lucifer inhales suddenly behind Sam and Sam feels the burn of blushing spread out across his face. Lucifer skims his hands down Sam’s sides and rests one on each thigh.

“I’m sure you could,” Lucifer growls, the words shooting straight through Sam’s body and exciting him even more.

“You said you’d never read my mind,” Sam breathes, opening his eyes and twisting his head to look up at him.

“You said it out loud,” Ruby says, smiling lazily at him.

She lowers herself down onto him again and his grip on her hip loosens until he’s just barely holding her. She’s warm and wet and perfect, and all Sam wants is more of everything. When Sam moans her name she laughs and Sam feels it inside her.

Sam closes his eyes again. It feels like he’s floating. He lowers his other arm down to grasp Lucifer’s thigh and uses the leverage to push harder against Ruby. When he lowers his hips he feels the ridge of Lucifer’s erection against his back, trapped in the wet space between their bodies.

Ruby lifts her hips, pulling almost all the way off of Sam before lowering herself down again. She does it again and again, faster and faster, her own panting turning to a high-pitched whine. Sam thrusts up into her, feeling his body tighten as they move closer and closer to the edge together. 

Lucifer’s grace seems to clutch at him, winding around him until he’s gasping for breath at the pleasure of it, begging for more, panting out both their names along with a combination of every blasphemy he can think of.

“I want to be inside you just like you’re inside her. I want to share everything with you.” Lucifer’s breathing has turned ragged and shallow in time with Sam’s own, and Sam doesn’t know how he knows, but he knows that when they come it will be together, and then it’s happening. 

Lucifer pushes up against him and growls so deep that Sam can feel the vibrations of it. Sam’s eyes open wide and he meets Ruby’s heated gaze, and then Ruby is coming around him and Sam doesn’t think he’s ever come so hard in his entire life, ecstasy rolling through him over and over, each wave brighter and more incredible than the one before.  
Ruby rides him, slowly bringing him down, and Lucifer trails his fingers over Sam’s arms and shoulders, brushing a lock of hair off his forehead.

Ruby is smiling down at him, framed by the night sky. She tucks her hair back behind her ears and kisses him, deep and thoroughly. She climbs off him and lies down on her side beside both of them. It takes a little negotiation but in the end Sam is in the middle of the bed with Ruby on one side and Lucifer on the other. Lucifer reaches down and pulls the blankets up over Sam and Ruby.

“Sam, will you be my vessel and let me in?” Lucifer asks.

Sam squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. Had Lucifer asked earlier, Sam’s not so sure he would have been able to say no.

Ruby curls up against Sam’s side and he wraps an arm around her, but Lucifer stands and starts to dress. With no clothing Sam can see how damaged his skin is. Lucifer pulls his t-shirt on quickly and then his boxers.

“Stay,” Sam says, looking up at him. He doesn’t want this to be over yet. He’s not sure he ever wants it to end.

“No,” Lucifer says. “Not tonight.” 

He leaves. Sam pulls Ruby closer, pushes his disappointment away, and wills sleep to come quickly.


	11. And Some Days, Even Hope

A few days later Sam can make it up and down the stairs on his own. Ruby’s blood has the same effect on him that it has on Lucifer, enabling him to heal much faster than normal, so he is almost completely recovered. 

He comes into the kitchen to find Ruby standing impatiently in front of the coffee pot.

“Good morning,” he says, hugging her from behind. He lets his thumb trail under the hem of her t-shirt and she squirms out of his grip.

“It snowed last night,” she says brightly, moving to the fridge and pulling out milk and juice. Meals have become considerably less formal since Sam’s attack. Once he could eat at all, meals were served in bed, then at the little table up in his room.

Sam opens the cupboards and takes out two bowls. “I saw. Kind of hard to miss when your entire ceiling is windows.” 

He pours cereal for both of them and they eat leaning against the counter, waiting for the coffee machine.

“We have chairs, you know,” Meg points out when she comes in, already dressed in a long wool coat. Gloves and a knit hat poke out of the pockets. She grabs an apple from the fruit bowl and turns to leave again.

“In a hurry?” Sam asks. “There’s gonna be coffee in a minute.”

She looks from Sam to Ruby and shakes her head, smiling. “I got demon stuff to do. Lucifer’s sending me out to check on some things, talk to some people. We are still fighting a war out there.”

She raises her eyebrows and salutes them before backing out through the door to the dining room. Sam and Ruby exchange a look, and Sam sets his bowl in the sink, rinsing out two coffee mugs and pouring coffee for them.

Sam knows she’s right, but it’s become so easy for him to forget about the battles he’s fought, and the battles he would still be fighting if he wasn’t here. All he ever wanted was a normal life, and this is the closest he’s come since he left Stanford with Dean. It’s a far cry from most people’s idea of normal, but no one expects him to fight. It’s enough for them that he’s here, and it makes everything else seem distant.

“I think it’s sweet that you try with her,” Ruby says, wrapping her hands around the mug and blowing at the steam.

Sam shrugs and opens the door to the dining room, holding it open for Ruby to follow him. “She lives here, too,” he says.

The garden is blanketed with snow outside the front windows. Meg’s footsteps are the only marks in the snow, leading away towards the path in the woods. Sam hasn’t seen the garden since he took off running through it and he pauses by the windows. The roses are still refusing to accept the change of seasons, brilliant red blossoms fighting their way through the snow, glistening in the sunlight. Sam sets his coffee down on the table and flops back into one of the sofas. Ruby weaves between the furniture and makes her way to the pot-bellied stove.

“Do we even have wood for that?” Sam calls to her, leaning forward to watch as she investigates it.

“I think it’s electric,” she answers back over her shoulder. She walks from one side to the other, tilting her head and even crouching down to look inside. “Yeah,” she says triumphantly. She reaches around to the back side of it and flips a switch, and when she backs away the front is giving off a cozy orange glow through the grates.

Sam nods, impressed. “What’s the story with the roses?”

“What roses?” she asks, breathing in the steam from her coffee.

“Out there.” Sam gestures back over his shoulder towards the garden. “How are they flowering now?”

She turns to face him and looks past him at the bushes outside. She looks them over for a minute then shakes her head.

“You’re not doing it?” Sam asks.

“Umm, no. Gardening's not really my thing.”

They sit in awkward silence for a moment. “So, what do we do today?” Sam asks.

Ruby shrugs as she sinks down into one of the armchairs. It’s huge and plush and swallows her when she tucks her legs underneath her. “I was going to go shopping, but now I think I might stay home.”

“Aww, come on,” Sam goads. “It’s the first snow and you’re just going to sit inside with me all day?”

She looks out at the snow wistfully. “I would like to go out.”

“Then it’s settled. I have books. I’ll be fine.”

She grins broadly at him, sitting up in her chair. “You’re sure?”

“I’m an adult, Ruby,” Sam insisted, exasperated. “I don’t need you to stay around and entertain me.”

“Oh, I’m sure we could think of something to do,” she replies, looking him over and smiling at him from over her coffee mug.

The conversation lulls as they both drink their coffee. The room warms gradually from the combination of sunshine and the stove.

“What was Meg gonna go do?” Sam asks.

Ruby levels a serious look at him. “You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Why?” he pushes.

“We’ve talked about this.” Ruby’s temper flares, and she unfolds from the chair, hurrying back towards the kitchen.

“I’m not going anywhere, remember? Who’m I gonna tell?” Sam shouts after her as he follows. She lets the kitchen door swing shut in his face and he rolls his eyes, taking a deep breath before going in after her.

“I still don’t know who you’re so worried about,” he says, dropping his mug in the sink.

“Your brother. Ever since you offered to come with Lucifer, your brother and that angel have been on a crusade to find you, and if they do, and we’ve told you everything…” She looks up at him, brows furrowed and lips pulled to a thin line. “So I can’t tell you, I’m sorry. It’s too dangerous for us.”

“This is bullshit, Ruby! Lucifer tells me as little as possible, and then you and Meg come and go with your secret meetings and your battle plans, and I don’t get to know any of it!” He’s red-faced and shouting now. Part of him knows he’s overreacting, but he doesn’t even try to calm down.

“Sam-“ 

“No, Ruby, come on. I can help. You know I can help!”

“Which side would you help, Sam?” She demands. 

Sam opens his mouth to answer, but nothing comes out, and Ruby nods.

“You’re not the same person anymore,” she continues. “Think about what’s happened to you – _what you’ve done_ – since you got here. Don’t get me wrong. I am thrilled with your progress. You’re getting stronger and that’s great. But your heart isn’t completely here, and that’s dangerous. That’s why we don’t tell you.” 

She’s upset, tears shining in her eyes, and Sam is deflated. “I gotta go,” she says suddenly, “but when I get back we’ll…”

Ruby gestures towards her arm, then pushes past him and leaves him standing in the kitchen. He picks his mug back up and pours himself another cup of coffee. 

It’s been days since he’s thought of his brother, and a wave of guilt washes over him when he realizes it. What would Dean think of now, sleeping with a demon and drinking her blood? Sharing a bed with Satan? At some point he stopped feeling like a prisoner and started feeling like one of them, with all that that implies, but the conversation with Ruby brought back into focus why he was here and which side he’s supposed to be on. 

Sam showers and dresses in his old t-shirt and jeans. The clothes he was wearing when he arrived feel like the uniform of a foreign army now, suiting his mood which had turned dark after Ruby’s reminder that this home is a one-man POW camp. He’s stopped trying the doors every chance he gets. This life he has here has started to become routine, and that was a mistake.

He picks up his abandoned copy of Lord of the Rings and stretches out on the bed to read.

The day slips quietly by and Sam is watching Gandalf the White approach Edoras when it occurs to him that he hasn’t eaten since breakfast. He closes the book and heads towards the stairs, surprised to meet Lucifer half-way down.

“I thought I was all by myself today,” Sam says, fighting to retain the righteous indignation he’d been nursing since his argument with Ruby.

“Never, Sam,” Lucifer responds with a tilt of his head. The patience in his eyes and the smile that he gives Sam make it all the more difficult to stay angry.

Sam points back over his shoulder. “Did you want something in your room?”

It’s too narrow for Lucifer to move past Sam, but Lucifer steps up until he’s standing directly below him on the stairs.

“It’s your room, and you were what I wanted there.” Sam gapes and Lucifer holds up a hand to placate him. “I was hoping we could talk.”

Sam backs slowly up the stairs, very aware that Lucifer is still holding out his hand out to catch him in case he stumbles.

“I haven’t seen you in a couple of days,” Sam remarks when they’re both back in his room.

Since that night with Ruby, Sam has only seen Lucifer in the evenings, and Sam’s been sleeping alone. He’s unsure how to proceed. He wants more from Lucifer, but he has no idea how to make his desires known without risking giving his consent to something other than sex. He thinks Lucifer might want the same thing, and the evenings have turned into strange dances filled with long glances and casual contact, but neither of them have made a move yet. This morning’s conversation has also left him with a creeping sense of guilt over his desires.

“Were you headed somewhere?” Lucifer asks, moving past Sam into the room. He offers no explanation for where he’s been, and Sam doesn’t try to get one. Lucifer brushes close enough that Sam can feel his grace leap out and flicker over him.

“I was gonna get something to eat,” Sam replies, clearing his throat and trying to calm his rising pulse.

“Let’s order in,” Lucifer suggests, and before Sam can ask what he means there is a pizza box and a six-pack of beer on the table.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Sam insists even as he’s opening the box. Pepperoni, peppers, onions, and mushrooms.

Lucifer shrugs, a smug grin on his face. “I wanted to. This is what guys do, right, when there are no girls around?”

“You don’t have any strippers up your sleeve, do you?” It’s an offhanded comment but when Sam looks up again Lucifer looks affronted. “You said you wanted to talk?” Sam offers, and Lucifer smiles, happy to change the subject.

“How’s your leg?” he asks.

Sam nods and gives a thumbs-up, his mouth full of pizza. He settles in to one of the chairs and motions towards the other.

“It’s better,” he says. “Not perfect, but getting there. The stairs aren’t a problem anymore.”

Lucifer doesn’t sit but instead leans forward, gripping the back of the chair opposite Sam. His expression turns serious. “I understand you’ve been asking Ruby about what she and Meg are doing when they’re away.”

Sam finishes his first slice of pizza and reaches for another. “You say that I should feel at home here, and I guess I do, but no one tells me anything.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Lucifer concedes, “but there are things that you can’t know. I’m sorry.”

Sam nods, not really understanding. “Ruby says you’re worried about Dean finding out, but it’s not like I can contact him. I mean, maybe I could even help.”

Lucifer frowns and shakes his head. He straightens and walks past Sam, pointing towards the bedroom door.

“If he were outside that door now, would you go with him?” Sam stands and turns to watch him, but doesn’t answer right away. “What if he was going to kill Ruby?“ Lucifer asks.

He steps right up into Sam’s space, tilting his chin up to look Sam in the eyes. Their bodies just brush against each other, but Sam feels grace jump like sparks to light him up from the inside.

“What if he was going to kill me?” Lucifer whispers, narrowing his eyes.

Sam doesn’t know how to answer that. He doesn’t want to think about it. His body is responding to the pull of Lucifer’s grace, distracting him and clouding his judgment.

“Which side are you on, Sam?” Lucifer leans in to whisper in Sam’s ear, and now they’re pressed together from their thighs to their chests, and there’s no way Lucifer isn’t doing this deliberately, but Sam thinks that maybe he’s not the only one who hasn’t been sure how to go forward.

“This isn’t just about being your vessel anymore, is it?” Sam asks desperately, avoiding the question.

Lucifer gives a little shake of his head. Sam sets his hands on Lucifer’s sides and pulls him even closer. He slides one hand around to Lucifer’s back and cradles the back of Lucifer’s head with the other, and Sam closes the last tiny distance between them to kiss him firmly on the lips.

There is a rush of air, and Sam’s arms are empty. He’s alone in the room. Lucifer has never used angel transport around him in the house, but he’s also never let himself get caught in Sam’s embrace before. 

Sam sighs and runs a hand through his hair, certain he’s screwed up something important. He reaches for a beer and opens it, staring out at the snowy woods spread out beyond the window.

Sam drinks all the beer Lucifer left him and drags himself to bed as soon as the sun dips below the horizon. He can’t answer the questions Lucifer has asked him. Of course he’d go with Dean if he turned up here to rescue him, but Sam can’t bring himself to imagine a scenario where the choice lies between his brother and Lucifer.

The snow blocking out the skylights and makes the room feel smaller than he’s used to. He spreads an extra comforter over the bed and falls into a restless sleep.

Ever since the attack by the hellhound, Sam’s dreams are filled with cool hands on his skin and blue eyes watching him, and Lucifer’s grace is always in the room when he wakes up in the morning. It’s a sort of static feeling, tightly coiled and vibrating.

It’s that feeling that Sam recognizes when he wakes to darkness. He turns onto his side and sees a silhouette outlined against the window.

“Do you do that every night?” Sam’s voice is blurry and sleep soft when he shifts in the bed and sits up, looking directly at Lucifer.

“Only since you ran away. I just want you safe, Sam.”

“So you stand in my room all night and watch me,” Sam asks, the end of the question trailing into a yawn that he hides behind his hand.

“Sometimes I sit,” Lucifer replies, gesturing towards the sofa that’s been returned to the corner of the room.

Sam laughs quietly, one corner of his mouth turning up in amusement. “Right. You don’t sleep.”

Lucifer shakes his head once.

Sam rolls his eyes and shifts under the blanket, moving to one side of the bed. Lucifer’s eyes widen slightly but he doesn’t move.

“Come here,” Sam says, beckoning Lucifer towards the bed. “You can’t just stand there all night. I won’t let you.”

“Why not?”

Sam groans. He’s groggy and not interested in discussion. “Because it’s weird and I think by this point we’re past weird.”

“I’ve been doing it all week,” Lucifer argues even as he walks.

“Well, now I know about it and I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re there.”

Sam organizes the pillows as Lucifer walks to the edge of the bed and sits. He pulls the covers tighter around him as the chill from Lucifer reaches him.

“You can lie down if you want,” Sam mumbles. He relaxes again and pats the bed next to Lucifer, who is looking around at the covers and pillows like he’s not sure they’ll support him.

“Take your shoes and jeans off,” Sam sighs as he turns to face him. Lucifer’s mouth falls open. Sam rubs at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “You’ll be more comfortable without them.”

Lucifer stands and starts toeing off his shoes. He watches his hands on the buckle of his belt as he talks. “Would you be more comfortable if I kept them on?”

Sam shrugs, then hisses in a breath. “No.”

Lucifer leaves his jeans in a pile on the floor and sits on the edge of the bed again. He swings his legs up carefully and stretches out, settling on his back after a few experimental squirms.

Sam shifts onto his left side so that he’s facing away from Lucifer. It’s quiet for a few minutes, then curious fingers rest gently on Sam’s back, tracing the outlines of the marks left by the hellhound’s claws.

Sam goes completely still, his heart racing. Lucifer’s skin is cool as always, but now Sam can even feel that coiled power that fills the room with them. It works its way into his muscles, soothing and relaxing them. His skin feels less tight and sore. He’s only known this kind of touch from Lucifer once before, but he’s missed it, and he relishes it now.

Lucifer’s weight shifts on the bed and his fingertips disappear, replaced by both his hands. He slides them carefully along Sam’s back.

“I should have protected you, Sam,” Lucifer whispers. His breath is warm on Sam’s skin and Sam’s heart races as he realizes how close to him Lucifer actually is. Sam is suddenly nervous. With Ruby to keep him grounded he’s not sure how much he trusts himself with Lucifer. He’d thought the kiss this afternoon was a mistake, but now Lucifer seems curious and eager, and Sam can’t deny that he wants this.

Grace winds its way through his body and Sam shifts his hips, already aroused. “I’ll never let this happen again,” Lucifer murmurs. Sam doesn’t know what to say so he says nothing, letting Lucifer’s hands wander over the scars and wounds.

“I just want to make you happy and keep you safe.” Lucifer’s lips brush against the nape of Sam’s neck when he speaks, and it’s all Sam can do to stifle a whimper. 

The tension is easing from his body as Lucifer massages his back, and Sam can’t ignore the effect the contact is having on him. He shifts slightly, willing the heat pooling in his groin to disappear. He takes deep breaths through his nose but that only fills his head with the chilled, dry scent that is uniquely Lucifer’s. All Sam’s focus is on the hands and lips on his skin.

“Are you happy here, Sam?” Lucifer’s breath stirs the hair next to Sam’s ear.

Sam nods. “You disappeared this afternoon,” he mutters.

“You startled me. It’s not always easy to know what you want,” Lucifer admits. He’s quiet for a moment. “Tell me you want this.”

Sam twists in bed, turning so that he can look up at Lucifer.

That same soft intensity that he saw that first night is looking down at him now, and Sam is overwhelmed.

“Yes,” he breathes out, lifting his head to meet Lucifer’s lips.

Lucifer is unmoving when Sam kisses him. Sam licks at Lucifer’s lower lip, then brings his left arm to Lucifer’s jaw, pulling lightly with his thumb.

This time Lucifer catches on, letting his mouth fall open with a quiet sound. Sam slides his tongue into Lucifer’s mouth, holding his cheek when he starts to move away.

Sam is slow and deliberate, tracing his tongue along Lucifer’s teeth and gently coaxing him into reciprocating. His mouth is surprisingly warm. Sam can just taste the bitter tang of blood from the lingering cut on Lucifer’s lip.

One hand slips around Sam’s waist and under his blankets. Lucifer moves closer, pressing his body against Sam’s. Now that Lucifer understands kissing he is enthusiastic, even smiling. Sam sighs into his mouth, covering Lucifer’s hand with his own.

Lucifer breaks the kiss and puts his mouth on the shell of Sam’s ear. “Is this what you want?” he asks, his voice gone husky and low. He starts slowly moving their joined hands down Sam’s body.

Sam huffs out a ragged, broken breath and nods, trying to recapture Lucifer’s lips.

“Show me what you want,” Lucifer growls.

Sam drags their hands down and places Lucifer’s over his straining erection. He rocks into the contact and Lucifer hums approvingly against Sam’s jaw. Lucifer massages gently before exploring more of Sam’s body. He caresses the inside of Sam’s thighs, traces the muscles of his stomach with his fingers, and finally pushes his hand inside the waistband of Sam’s briefs, brushing his fingers over the leaking tip of Sam’s dick.

Sam reaches back with his right arm to grab at Lucifer’s hip. He moans softly, rolling his hips, trying to press against Lucifer’s hand. He twists his head and kisses Lucifer hard, a thrill going through him when Lucifer gives as good as he gets, pushing Sam down into the pillows.

Lucifer dips his fingers into the coarse hair at the base of Sam’s dick and just manages to trail his fingertips along his balls. Sam hooks a thumb into the waistband of his briefs and pushes them down, kicking and struggling until they are tangled around one foot and Lucifer is unrestricted.

Lucifer is speaking. The sounds are low and rumbling, deliberately placed in his mouth, paced and timed like a chant, or a prayer that tumbles out of Lucifer in time with the movement of their bodies, rolling down over Sam's skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. Sam recognizes it as Enochian, the cadence of it familiar from all their evening lessons. He has no idea what Lucifer is saying, but he's sure that it's meant for him alone, the way Lucifer’s lips brush against his hair, his voice as much a vibration along Sam’s back as it is actual sounds. It's foreign and intimate at the same time, and the only thing Sam can discern from the words pouring out of Lucifer's mouth is his own name, intermingled with a language as old and powerful as Lucifer himself.

Sam turns in Lucifer’s arms. Lucifer grunts and tries to reach between their bodies to stroke Sam again, but Sam wraps his fingers around Lucifer’s wrist to stop him. Sam pushes his knee in between Lucifer’s thighs and slides his hand up under the hem of his t-shirt. His skin is cool under Sam’s touch, and Sam lets his hand wander, exploring the expanse of Lucifer’s back and trailing up along his side before daring to slip down under the waistband of his boxers.

Lucifer makes quiet, approving sounds low in his throat as Sam touches him and their hips rock together in an uncoordinated staccato. They kiss, breaking off for Sam to tug Lucifer’s t-shirt up over his head.

“Can’t you just angel off your clothes?” Sam asks, smiling against Lucifer’s mouth.

Lucifer doesn’t answer, but his boxers disappear, and Sam chuckles, opening his mouth to Lucifer’s kiss. He’s all teeth and tongue, biting at Sam’s lower lip and pushing as deep as he can. Sam loves it. He wants more of it, so he rolls onto his back and takes Lucifer with him so that he’s pinned underneath the angel.

Lucifer lets out a loud, ragged breath as his erection presses down against Sam’s thigh. He rolls his hips, looking at Sam with dark eyes.

Sam lifts Lucifer’s hips just long enough to move his leg out so that Lucifer is resting between his thighs. Lucifer starts to move again immediately, rutting against Sam too hard and too fast. It’s the same intensity that he has in his kisses. He leans down, crushing his mouth against Sam’s again, but it’s too much.

“We need,” Sam pants, breaking the kiss.

“Oh, you’ll get,” Lucifer purrs against his mouth.

“No,” Sam explains, stilling Lucifer’s hips with his hands. “We need lube. You can’t just do it like this”.

Lucifer looks puzzled for a moment, then leans over him and plucks a bottle from the nightstand next to the bed. Sam’s eyes go wide in surprise.

“You-“

“This is massage oil that Ruby’s been using on your back,” Lucifer says. He squints at the bottle in the darkness. “Will that work?”

Sam nods. He takes the bottle from Lucifer and opens it. Lucifer obediently holds his hand out, but Sam pours a generous amount out into his own palm instead. He closes the bottle again and lets it drop to the floor.

“Sit back a little,” Sam instructs, and Lucifer does, lifting his body just enough for Sam to push his arm down between them and use his slicked hand to press them together. Lucifer groans unashamedly and bucks into Sam’s hand. 

Sam makes a desperate noise deep in his chest when Lucifer starts to move. He sets the tempo with a guiding hand on Lucifer’s hip. He is agonizingly slow and careful, and Lucifer grinds down to press their bodies as close together as he can. This is different and so much better than it had been with Ruby. Every part of him is reacting to Lucifer. The pull of grace and soul has never been this strong, this erotic. Sam is sure he won’t last long. He can already feel the familiar tight coil forming low in his body.

“I can’t,” Sam begs. “You have to-“

Lucifer lifts his body again covers Sam’s hand with his own. Sam sets a faster rhythm, shows Lucifer how to squeeze and twist and pull. He can feel the muscles in his thighs bunching as his body races towards climax. He does everything he can to make it last, but Lucifer seems intent on going as fast as possible.

“You steal all my focus, all my attention, Sam. You so much as think my name and I want to be here with you, above you, bearing down against you. We fit together. We’re made for each other, even this way. You’re mine. Your body and your soul know it.”

It must be something in the way an angel’s mind works that he can keep up a coherent litany even while grinding Sam down into the mattress. Sam is the bigger man here, but Lucifer overpowers him easily, and it’s nothing like last time. Grace washes around them like waves, pulsing with every thrust, pulling at Sam and skittering over his skin until his hair stands on end and his toes curl. Sam can barely hear Lucifer for the rush of blood in his ears. Grace and soul mingle this time to pull him towards the edge. He can feel it when Lucifer starts to get close, the way the room seems to grow so bright it shimmers at the edge of his vision.

“Come for me, Sam,” Lucifer orders as he sucks kisses into Sam’s neck. “Let me give you this.”

He strokes, and Sam fucks into their hands, faster and harder until Sam is coming, hot spurts that coat both their hands. Lucifer slows down but continues until Sam is shaking and twitching with each touch. Lucifer lies down on top of Sam and kisses him again. This time he’s the one exploring, mapping Sam’s mouth with his tongue, memorizing every contour and all the little sounds that go with them.

Sam kicks out of his briefs and uses them to wipe off as much as he can. Lucifer is looking at his hand with that same intense curiosity as always until Sam grabs him by the wrist and wipes it clean.

Lucifer rolls of off Sam, tugging the blankets out from underneath him. He slips his arm around Sam’s waist and pulls the blankets up over both of them.

Sam’s breath is already slowing and evening out. His eyelids are heavy with exhaustion and contentment.

“Why me?” Sam asks, and Lucifer pulls him closer.

“Everything in your life has been leading you here, leading you to me.” The fondness in Lucifer’s voice is unmistakable, and Sam turns until he’s facing him. Lucifer lays a hand on Sam’s cheek and pulls him closer until their lips are almost touching. “You were made for me, Sam. We’re meant to be together.”

Sam closes the distance between them to kiss Lucifer softly. He rests his hand on Lucifer’s hip, but when he starts to move his hand Lucifer grabs his wrist and stops him. He pulls back and shakes his head.

“But-“

“I don’t need it. This is enough. Just promise me something.” He kisses Sam again, and Sam nods, closing his eyes.

“Don’t run again, Sam. Please.” Sam doesn’t look, but he hears fear and sadness, and he can feel Lucifer’s breath quicken.

“I won’t,” Sam promises, before drifting off to sleep with Lucifer wrapped around him.


	12. Love's Intolerable Pain

The room is awash in crisp morning light, everything outside now covered in a thick blanket of snow. Sam wakes up to find Lucifer still beside him in bed. He’s lying propped up on his elbow, studying Sam’s face.

“Meg has news for me,” he says when Sam’s eyes focus on him. “But I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

“Was she up here?” Sam asks, groaning when Lucifer nods. “Was I decent?” Lucifer nods again. “Is Ruby back?”

Lucifer stands and starts dressing. “I’d imagine you’ll find her in her room or in the kitchen.”

“I was kind of a dick yesterday. I should talk to her,” Sam says.

“No one likes that it’s like this,” Lucifer says as he starts towards the door. “I wish I could let you come and go as you please, and I wish we could share everything with you, but there’s still too much risk.”

Sam swings his legs over the side of the bed and scratches at the base of his neck. “It sucks that this can only end one way.”

“I’m not the one who made those rules, but there might be a new offer on the table,” Lucifer says.

“What? What do you mean?”

“We can talk about it more tonight at dinner,” Lucifer says as he slips out of the room.

Sam takes his time getting ready for the day. He’s looking forward to seeing Ruby again, but it stings when he thinks about how angry he’d been with her the day before. It’s late in the morning and he’s too hungry to keep hiding in his room, so he goes downstairs. There’s no answer when Sam knocks on Ruby’s door, and the kitchen is empty. He makes coffee and eggs for himself and tries not to worry when Ruby doesn’t turn up while he eats. 

He’s on his way to Ruby’s room with a conciliatory cup of coffee when he meets Meg in the hallway, coming up the stairs. She’s shaking snow from her hair as she walks.

Meg stops short when she sees him. She looks uneasy, and glances from away Sam, back over her shoulder.

“Sam, we gotta talk,” she says, her eyes flitting over his face.

Sam looks forlornly at the mugs of coffee in his hands. He offers one to Meg, who takes it with a weak smile.

“What’s up?”

“You have to understand,” she starts, looking up at Sam with creased brows, “Lucifer can only control the demons. The orders are clear: your brother is to be left alone.”

“He did that for me?”

“Yes, but Sam, it’s only the demons, and all he said was not to hurt him. He never said anything about protecting.” She shifts uncomfortably and avoids Sam’s eyes.

Sam’s voice rises as he waits for her to continue. “What the hell’s going on, Meg?”

“Last night your brother was on a hunt and got jumped by a coven of vampires, okay? A big coven.”

For a moment Sam is silent as he takes in what she’s just told him.

“Is he okay? Is he-”

“I’m sorry, Sam.”

He shoves the other coffee cup into her hands and starts to move past her. 

“Where are you going?” she asks, jumping to block him.

“I have to tell Lucifer I’m leaving,” he says as she moves to block his path. “I can’t stay here if Dean is dying.”

“I’ll tell him. Go grab your stuff.”

Sam looks towards Lucifer’s door. 

“Go, Sam. You gotta hurry.”

He sets a hand on her shoulder and squeezes before turning towards the stairs. “Thanks, Meg.”

She nods and motions with the coffee cups.

Sam takes the stairs two at a time, swearing when he hits his head on the ceiling. He’s already dressed, but he puts on an extra shirt and his coat. He takes a last look around the room then hurries back down the stairs.

Meg is standing where Sam had left her outside Ruby’s room.

“Meg!” he calls as he approached her. “Umm, where the hell are we?”

“Not that far,” she says. “Run straight through the woods for a couple of miles. There’s a path. It’ll put you on the side of a road. Go west until you hit the highway, then you should see some signs, recognize where you are.”

“What about the hellhounds?”

“They got sacked after your little incident.”

Sam goes to the stairs but stops, looking again towards Lucifer’s room. “I should tell him. I promised him last night that I wouldn’t try to run again.”

“He’s outside,” Meg says, nodding towards the stairs. Sam is barreling down them before she even gets the words out. “Sam!” She calls from the top of the stairs.

He turns to face her. She jingles her keys at him, then tosses them to him. He catches them one-handed and motions his thanks before heading to the door.

Sam can see Lucifer through the glass. He’s standing in the garden, dressed in a button-down and jeans. It’s snowing; big, fat flakes drift down lazily and pile on the bushes and on the sidewalk, and even on Lucifer’s shoulders, but he doesn’t seem to care. He is wholly invested in brushing the snow off of the roses, leaving their swollen blossoms exposed to the cold air.

Sam opens the door and glances back over his shoulder before he pulls it shut behind him. He’s careful to close it quietly so that he doesn’t draw Lucifer’s attention. In all his time at the house, he can’t recall ever seeing Lucifer outside, or seeing him with his full attention turned somewhere other than Sam.

He would expect Lucifer to look out of place in a garden, but he finds this is not the case. In fact, Lucifer looks very much at home as he moves among the flowers, tending to each in turn. He is completely engrossed in them, and the scene is peaceful. Sam is sorry to think that he will have to disturb him, and even more sorry that it is because he has to leave.

Lucifer is gentle with the flowers, sweeping the snow off with his bare hands, even leaning down to blow stray flakes away. He smiles softly to himself, but his forehead is lined with worry and his eyes are dark and sad, and Sam suspects that Lucifer already knows what choice he’s going to make. The only sounds are the crunch and squeak of his boots in the snow, and the soft sighs of his breath.

The roses are still thriving, and when they appear from under the thin blanket of snow, they appear to reach up towards Lucifer, red and heavy, conspicuously out of season.

Sam walks slowly down the steps. Lucifer has his back to him, and he stills when he hears Sam approach, but he does not turn or move away.

"They're _your_ roses," Sam remarks with hushed wonder. Even speaking softly, he feels like his voice echoes, ruining the silence Lucifer had been enjoying.

Lucifer hums and nods. His hands rest on the soft, vibrant petals. Sam is close enough that he can smell their perfume.

"I wouldn't have figured you for the gardening type." Sam steps close enough to brush against Lucifer's bare forearm, but Lucifer is unmoving, looking down towards the flowers, then away towards the forest.

"I love everything about this planet. It is a gift from my father, but humans waste it. They fail to see the privilege they've been given, to walk freely on its surface."

"They’re beautiful. How do you keep them so healthy?" Sam asks, watching the way Lucifer's fingers stroke the flowers affectionately.

"Love," he answers simply, and Sam's head snaps up. 

The word stuns him. Lucifer has used it before, to talk about his brothers, his father, and all the things that had happened at the beginning of time, but this feels different. Sam has noticed a change in Lucifer over the last couple of weeks, as well as a change in himself, and part of him wonders, maybe even hopes that Lucifer is not speaking solely of love for this planet, or his roses. It's a revelation that leaves Sam dry-mouthed and flustered, but he takes a deep breath and pushes down these new emotions. Dean needs him, so whatever he might wish to see in Lucifer's face, or thinks he hears in his words now, it has to wait. His brother is dying.

Lucifer’s posture shifts when Sam doesn’t respond. He pulls his shoulders in and lowers his head. He’s not affected by the cold, so Sam can’t help but wonder what else he’s trying to protect himself from.

“You’re leaving,” Lucifer says, turning his head a fraction, away from the woods but not looking at Sam.

“Meg told me about Dean,” Sam explains as he looks back over his shoulder towards the house. “I just have to go make sure he’s okay.”

“Of course you do.” There is resignation in Lucifer’s voice, and when he turns to face Sam there is despair in his eyes.

“I won’t be gone long, just a couple of days. He’s gonna need me.”

Lucifer swallows hard and licks his lips. He’s been twisting the ring on his left hand, and now he pulls it off and looks at it.

“Nick— this vessel. He kept wearing this even after his wife had died. It was important to him that he remember her.” Lucifer contemplates the ring for a moment longer, then looks up at Sam. “Will you keep it?”

Lucifer holds the ring out and Sam stares open-mouthed. It’s a simple gold band, a little worn and beaten from everyday wear and tear. He takes it gently from between Lucifer’s fingers and tries to put it on.

“It, umm, it doesn’t fit,” he says apologetically.

“Here.” Lucifer pulls the ring off of Sam’s hand and slips it into the front pocket of his shirt instead. The metal is cold even though the fabric. He glances up from Sam’s hand and for a long moment they just look at each other, and Sam thinks he sees it, confirmation of what he’s only now found himself hoping for. He can’t bring himself to ask, or to say anything out loud. Sam would rather make the choice to leave without knowing.

Lucifer sets one hand gently on the back of Sam’s neck and pulls him down for a kiss. It’s a short press of lips but Sam feels a strand of Lucifer’s power reach out to him. It’s asking a question, and Sam does his best to answer without speaking.

“You should hurry,” Lucifer murmurs against Sam’s lips, and eventually Sam nods and takes a step back. There is unspeakable sadness in Lucifer’s eyes.

“I’ll be back,” Sam reassures him. “I promise you.”

Lucifer merely nods and drops his hands to his sides. Sam wants to say more, to ask or to tell, but now is not the time. Instead, he starts to walk. His steps are even and measured, and he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his coat. He doesn’t look back, even though he can feel Lucifer’s eyes on him. He does his best to keep calm and just keep moving until he’s deep into the woods. Half of him wants to run full-tilt through the forest until he finds Dean. The other half wants to run back to Lucifer and stay. 

He walks until he’s sure he’s out of sight of the house, then he breaks into a run. His blood roars in his ears and adrenaline courses through him, leaving him jumpy and wild-eyed, but nothing stops him this time. The air is bitterly cold and the falling snow has covered parts of the path, but Sam picks his way as quickly as he can. There are almost no shadows in the forest, so when Sam bursts out of the trees onto the shoulder of a two-lane strip of asphalt he has to stop for a minute to figure out which way is west.

Then he sticks his thumb out and starts walking.

Meg sips on one of the abandoned cups of coffee as she wanders down the stairs. She dumps the other cup in the sink and drinks her own in quick gulps, leaving the mug on the kitchen counter. Humming tunelessly to herself she collects her keys from the door and slips them into her pocket before heading back upstairs.

She checks that Ruby is still fast asleep in her room, then opens the door to Lucifer’s room and slips inside. Lucifer is standing by the window with his arms behind his back, hands clasped together. The shoulders of his shirt are wet and there is a puddle at his feet.

“Let it not be said that my Father doesn’t have a sense of humor,” Lucifer sighs, not turning from the window when she comes in. Sam has long since disappeared into the snowy woods but Lucifer watches as if he can still see him moving further and further away.

Meg watches him warily. When he still doesn’t face her she walks across the room to him. “What do you mean?”

“He gave me a perfect vessel. A man so beautiful that I could barely stand the idea of taking over because it would mean I wouldn’t be able to look at him, to talk with him, to know that he stands beside me.” Meg nods, her brow furrowed as she listens. “We share so much, Sam and I, but the world has him taught to hate me, to fear and refuse me. I fought so hard to get him to overcome that, and just when I thought I’d succeeded, he leaves.”

“You let him go?” she asks innocently, and Lucifer nods.

“This was his choice. I can’t keep fighting to keep him here.”

“You don’t need him,” Meg replies, laying a hand on Lucifer’s arm.

“Yes I do,” Lucifer answers softly. “I need him, and I want him, too.”

It’s an hour later when Sam is shouting a thank you over his shoulder as he slams the pickup truck’s door and runs towards Bobby’s house. There are lights on and the garage door stands open, the Impala parked halfway in with its hood up. Sam hurries up the path between the cars that leads to the door.

Before he can get to the porch, the door opens wide. Castiel comes charging down the steps to meet him, and as he lifts two fingers to Sam’s forehead Sam sees Dean behind him in the doorway. He’s smiling, but there’s concern in his eyes as well, and he doesn’t move to stop Castiel.


	13. Long Given Away The Chase

Sam is almost used to the buzzing in his head that he gets after getting zapped by an angel. He sits up slowly. He’s on the rickety little bed in Bobby’s cast-iron panic room in the basement, unrestrained and unhurt, but also alone. His collar and hairline are wet, and there is a thin stripe of a cut along his forearm.

“What the hell?” he mumbles to himself, rubbing at his eyes. He watches the fan in the ceiling turn listlessly for a minute, then stands and goes to the door.

Sam’s getting really sick of locked doors. This time he doesn’t even understand why he’s locked up. He should have passed all the tests they gave him. He’s home; he got out, but maybe Castiel had been able to tell that there was a change in him that holy water and silver couldn’t detect.

“Dean! Bobby! Cas!” He bangs on the door and shouts, growing more and more nervous. What if that hadn’t been Castiel? Can angels get turned into vampires? What if they turned his brother, and that’s why he’d smiled? Dean didn’t look like he was dying, but he hadn’t seen him for long enough to be sure.

Sam keeps calling for them until he hears footsteps on the stairs. The door swings open and Sam stumbles back to let Dean and Castiel step inside. Bobby stays on the threshold, doing his best to fill the opening.

Dean and Sam look each other over cautiously. Dean grins and steps forward with outstretched arms, but Sam backs away.

“Are you _you_?” Sam asks, eying all three of them suspiciously.

“What d’you mean? Of course I’m me,” Dean scoffs. “Why the hell wouldn’t I be?”

“Prove it,” Sam demands, holding his hands in front of his body defensively. “Let me see your teeth.”

Dean gives Sam a look like he thinks this whole exercise is absurd, but he relents, pushing his upper lip up so that Sam can see that there are no holes in his gums for extra fangs.

“Them, too? They’re not vampires?” Sam asks, nodding towards Castiel and Bobby.

“No, Sam,” Dean replies, glancing back over his shoulder at Bobby, who shrugs. “What the hell? Why would we be _vampires_? You’re the one we should be worried about.”

“You’re okay?” Sam says incredulously. His voice all but cracks from emotion. It’s the first time since leaving Lucifer that his heart isn’t in his throat. His muscles sag in relief, but there is a lingering apprehension as well.

“Better now!” Dean replies, grinning broadly. This time when he pulls Sam into a fierce hug, Sam goes along with it, embracing him, then moving away to hold Dean at arm’s length.

“How the hell did you get away from him, man?” Dean asks. “Cas said there were hellhounds, and angel-proofing. I couldn’t see any of it but we couldn’t get near the place once we found it. The demons were seriously tight-lipped about it. We’ve been reading, try to figure out-“

“I left through the front door,” Sam says, confusion mixing with the joy of seeing his brother whole and healthy. “Meg said you were hurt, that you were dying.” Sam’s eyes dart from side to side as he thinks, then he pushes past them towards the door. “I gotta go.”

“Whoa there, boy,” Bobby says, holding up in hands as Sam tries to move past him. “You’re not going anywhere for a while. What do you mean, _Meg told you_?”

“Meg and Ruby, two of the demons that were there when I got taken, they live with him. Dean. Cas! It wasn’t a demon.”

“It’s Lucifer. Yes, we know, Sam,” Castiel says calmly. “We realized it when we saw the wards that were on the fence and the trees around the property.”

“He hasn’t hurt you, has he?” Dean asks, patting at Sam’s arms and shoulders. His hand lands on the pocket containing the ring and Sam pulls back. Dean gives no indication that he noticed.

“What?” Sam snaps, stepping back again when Dean follows him, grabbing Sam’s head to look him in the eyes. “No, Dean, no. I’m fine.” Sam waves him off. “He’s been really gracious.”

“Really?” Dean leans back and looks at him in disbelief. “No torture, nothing?”

Sam knows that leaving again will only raise questions. He is happy to be back, but seeing Dean safe, and knowing that Meg lied, makes him worry about what is happening to Lucifer. He’s torn. He realizes that he has two homes now: one with Dean and Bobby, but also one with Lucifer. 

“Look, I told him I’d only be gone a couple days,” Sam says, agitated as he paces in the center of the room. “I’ll come back, but you guys have to let me go, tell him what’s going on. If I stay too long and he thinks I ran away again-“

“You got away once before?” Bobby asks, his eyes bulging beneath his baseball cap.

“Yeah, but a hellhound got me and he saved me, okay? He saved me, and he took care of me. I know you guys think you know what he’s about, but you’re wrong.” He can see the skepticism on their faces, and he rolls his eyes, sighing.

“You are his true vessel, Sam,” Castiel says with stony seriousness.

“I know, but that doesn’t matter anymore. I have to get back to him!” Sam shrugs off Dean’s hands and tries again to go towards the door but Castiel steps into his path.

“Wait, wait. How can that _not matter_?” Dean demands. “He wants to wear you on his stroll over Creation and you think that’s not important?”

“He’s not gonna wear me, Dean. He has a way around it. He’s barely mentioned the Apocalypse while I’ve been there. Now would you please let me out?” Sam moves towards the door again but Dean stops him, planting a hand on the center of Sam’s chest.

“What way could he possibly have around it? God himself has planned this.” Castiel’s confusion is written on his face.

“I don’t know, Cas. He was going to tell me tonight. It seemed like he was excited about it.”

“That’s never good,” Bobby says from the doorway.

Dean moves forward, looking Sam in the eyes as he could read his thoughts. “You just got here, and now you’re going to leave again? Go back to the devil?”

“I promised him I wouldn’t run away again,” Sam explains, pushing a hand back through his hair. “He let me go because we thought that you had been attacked by vampires and, and that you were dying. But you’re not! You’re fine, and that’s great, but that means that something’s up there and I have to go find out what. Meg lied to me, and I need to know why.”

“So, what? Just because I’m not dead, it’s not worth hangin’ around? That’s your baseline now? ‘Dean’s alive, so back to the devil’s lair!’” Dean’s voice is filled with derision.

Sam isn’t getting his argument across and he knows it. It’s clear on all their faces. He’s not sure how to explain without going into detail about his connection with Lucifer, though, and he sure as hell isn’t going to start talking about whatever he felt in the garden before he left.

“It’s not about leaving you, Dean,” he explains, emphasizing every word. “I need him to know that I’m coming back.”

Dean’s eyes widen as he listens to Sam. “No. You need to cool off in here for a few days and think about your priorities. You got away from the devil-“

“He’s an angel.”

“This is my point. You need to listen to yourself,” Dean says. “Talking about the devil like he’s got feelings other than hate, like he can care. I mean seriously, Sam. You make it sound like you care about him!”

“So much of what we know about him is wrong.” Dean turns away from Sam but Sam follows him around the little room. “He compared the Bible to when Dad used to get drunk and tell whole bars full of strangers about how I deserted him.”

At that Dean turns to face him. “Except for every time that dad did that, there were five times when he would buy everyone a round and tell them all about his son that got into Stanford!” Dean shouts and waves a finger at Sam. “The devil doesn’t have those kinds of stories, Sam. Ever wonder why?”

Sam opens his mouth to argue but gives up, defeated.

“All right, one of us’ll come check on you later,” Dean says. They file out of the room, leaving Sam alone. Dean’s face is a mix of hurt and anger as he watches Sam until the door clanks shut.

“You know, he locked me up in the beginning, too! You’re no better than him!” Sam shouts, slamming his fist into the rusted surface of the door until his knuckles come away bloody. “Dammit, Dean!”

Sam sinks down onto the bed again, confounded by his own emotions. He is glad to be back, and his relief at knowing that his brother is all right is palpable. He had longed to be reunited with him, but now that he’s here all he can think about is returning to Lucifer, to know that he too is safe. At some point during their weeks apart, Sam had started to take for granted that Dean would be okay without him, and that Dean in turn would feel the same way about him. His own knowledge that he was safe and happy with Lucifer had led him to forget what it must look like from his brother’s perspective, that Sam was the devil’s prisoner. It seems impossible to explain his desire to return without making mention of emotions that Sam isn’t sure he understands himself. What he does know is that any attempt to tell Dean about his feelings for Lucifer will not result in him being let out of the safe room.

Castiel is the first to come down, hours later. Sam is sitting cross-legged on the bed reading one of the books left abandoned on the desk Bobby’s set in the room. Castiel has a tray with him with food and a couple cans of beer.

“Hello, Sam.”

Sam looks up from his book but doesn’t reply.

“I am sorry about these circumstances,” Cas says, tucking his hands onto the pockets of his ever-present overcoat. “Dean is- we all are very happy you’re home and safe, but the things you were saying are deeply troubling.”

Sam closes the book and sets it aside, unfolding from the bed to stand in the middle of the room. “There’s nothing to be troubled about, Cas. Look, I’m happy to be back too, I really am. I’m happy Dean’s safe, but Lucifer trusts me and I don’t want to screw that up by staying away too long. If I can go back then maybe I can make it up to him.”

“You’re very worried about maintaining his trust. Do you have a plan to defeat him?”

Sam looks at Castiel in horror. “No. I just want to go back to him.”

“Why would you want to go back into the service of Lucifer?” There is genuine confusion in Castiel’s voice, and his eyes are moving over Sam like he’s looking for marks of possession or manipulation.

“I’m not in his service. We’re friends. We… we’re friends.” The word doesn’t feel adequate but saying anything to Castiel else seems dangerous.

Castiel’s eyes narrow and he presses his mouth to a thin line, like if he just concentrates hard enough, he can figure out what Sam means. Sam hopes that’s not true.

“Well, in any case, here’s your dinner.” Castiel sets the tray on a table near the door, apparently giving up his attempt to understand Sam’s motives for the time being. “Umm, knock if you need anything and one of us will come down, otherwise we’ll be back in a few hours.”

“You guys realize there’s no bathroom in this, right?”

Castiel looks around the room, his eyebrows raised as if this is the first time he’s considered it. It probably is the first time he’s considered it, Sam realizes.

“I’ll mention that to Bobby. Take it easy, Sam.” The farewell is probably intended as congenial, but comes across stilted and awkward, like Castiel feels he has to say something, but doesn’t know what.

“Like I have any other option,” Sam mutters to the closed door.

The days here blur together much like they did at the beginning of his captivity with Lucifer. The bathroom problem is solved via angelic escort, and Dean makes himself scarce for the first couple of days. When Sam does see him, it’s always loaded glances and a tight jaw, like Dean wants to talk, but doesn’t know quite what to say.

Sam is happy to be home. He keeps reminding himself of that as if to reinforce the idea in his mind. He hadn’t realized how much he missed his family until he was reunited with them. It’s like breathing a different type of air, replacing everything that he was with Lucifer and reminding him who was before he was taken. He’s not sure he can decide which person he likes more, though. With Lucifer he’d been needed in a way he’d never felt before. He’d felt whole and right, and he’d been happy there, too. 

Being back at Bobby’s with Dean, on the other hand, is a mixed blessing. He had missed his brother, but the reunion had been bittersweet, and Sam had been reminded of everything that made him different from his family. Dean’s obstinance, his inability to let Sam decide for himself, and his belief that he knew what was right for his brother; all these things had come to the forefront as soon as they’d seen each other again. Dean had always needed Sam more than Sam needed Dean, and now that Sam had Lucifer in his life, he was more aware than ever that he could be happy apart from his family. Dean would always be a constant in his life, but with Lucifer Sam felt like an equal, not like someone’s little brother. Here (outside the panic room), there’s the stability that can only come from the love of family, but with Lucifer there is something new and unexplored. It thrills Sam, and he wants to know more.

The gold ring lies heavy in his pocket. He brushes his hand over it often but never takes it out. It’s the only piece of Lucifer he has left now. He’s not sure if the headaches, muscle cramps and shakes he feels are a result of withdrawal from demon blood or angelic grace, but he feels them all the same. He fights them down whenever Castiel or Bobby come by with food, but when he’s alone he sweats and trembles, clutching the ring through his shirt like a lifeline. When he’s alone he misses Lucifer so bad it hurts, tears stinging at the corner of his eyes. With no one to fill the hole inside, it gapes like a wound.

Dean comes in one afternoon with food. He perches on the corner of the desk and stretches over to hand Sam a beer. Sam smiles and accepts it. He’s missed spending time with his brother, but he knows that this conversation is not going to be light and friendly. He hopes that maybe, without Castiel and Bobby there, he can get his brother to understand.

“Good to see you, man,” Dean says, eying his brother critically, like he’s still not sure it’s actually him. “Sorry I haven’t been around. There was a thing with some demons, if you can believe that. Bobby went along. It, umm, it went well.” He settles back on the desk and opens his beer, raising it to Sam.

“What did they look like?” Sam asks, a chill running down his spine. He imagines Ruby lying on the ground, unmoving and covered in blood. He is less affected by the idea of Meg in the same pose.

“Jeez, I don’t know,” Dean answers with a shrug. “They looked like demons. Then they looked like ganked demons.”

“Was there a girl, with dark hair? Long, dark hair, dark eyes, yea tall?” Sam stands and holds up a hand.

Dean watches his brother for a moment before answering. “Maybe. Why?”

Sam runs a hand through his hair. He starts pacing nervously. “Did she answer to the name Ruby?”

“Sam, why the hell are you asking about the names of demons?” Dean slides down off the desk and leans back against it, folding his arms across his chest.

“She’s a girl, a demon. She stayed with Lucifer. She was… she was nice to me.” Sam takes a pull on his beer and leans against the table on the opposite side of the room. He can feel heat creeping up over his face and he only hopes that Dean doesn’t pursue what “nice” could mean.

Dean has a gash above his eyebrow surrounded by a vibrant bruise. “What happened there?” Sam asks with a nod.

“Your girlfriend,” Dean shoots back.

“Dammit, Dean-“

“Don’t you ‘dammit, Dean’ me, Sam!” Dean pushes off from the desk and strides across the room, planting himself right in front of Sam. “Do you know what you sound like? Cas told me what you said to him. Friends with Lucifer? You want to go back?” He makes a disgusted noise and turns away, scrubbing at his jaw. “Do you not remember when he was going to kill me?”

“Did you not notice a certain lack of demon attacks while I was missing?” Sam counters, letting his irritation bubble to the surface. “That was him. While I was there, it was hands off of you.”

“Just because you asked?” Dean’s eyes narrow in disbelief.

Sam shrugs. “Well, yeah. That was the deal. I go with him, you’re safe.”

“Sorry if I don’t get on board with Satan as quickly as you do,” Dean replies, turning away from him again. 

“See, while you’ve been gone, a lot of his soldiers haven’t been following orders.”

“Well, if you attack them, they’re going to defend themselves.” The argument sounds logical in his head but insane as soon as it’s out of him mouth, and he knows Dean won’t wait with his rebuttal.

“How else was I supposed to find out where you were? Demons took you, so I asked the demons, all right? And since when do you defend demons?” Dean shouts. “Or Lucifer, for that matter?”

The way Dean spits the angel’s name out sets Sam’s nerves on edge. This wasn’t how he’d hoped that this would go. He takes another deep breath, calms himself, and tries a new approach.

“He’s not like you think. None of them are.” He considers for a moment. “Well, no, some of them are. But Lucifer’s still an angel. He’s gotten this terrible reputation when a lot of the time, it wasn’t even him! He was locked up in Hell!” Sam’s losing this argument, and fast. He loves his brother, but he can’t ignore the fact that his time with Lucifer changed his outlook on the battles they fought together.

“Oh, so, this plan to destroy humanity and wipe off of the face of the Earth, that’s just a typo in a press release?”

If Sam had missed Dean’s sarcasm while they were separated, he’s forgotten now. He sighs. “No. No, that part’s true,” he mutters with resignation. “But there’s more there. I think maybe, if I go back, I can convince him not to.”

At that Dean perks up and regards him with genuine interest. “So you do have a plan to kill him?”

“What? No! I mean talk him out of it.” Sam can hear his own voice rising at the thought of killing Lucifer. That’s exactly what he doesn’t want it to come down to.

“Aww, c’mon, Sam!”

“We talked,” Sam insists. “A lot. About all kinds of stuff. He listens to me. Do you know how he talks about his father, Dean? He still loves him.”

“He is the devil, and he’s burning up some poor bastard just to try to get to you.” Dean’s voice rings off the cast iron walls and he throws his arms wide. “He doesn’t give a shit about people, and you’re a person, so forgive me if I think you’ve overestimating your importance to him.”

“He had a family. He talks about the other angels. They’re his brothers and sisters, and he misses them. He misses Michael so much.” Sam is plaintive, and he watches Dean as he speaks, but his brother isn’t giving up any ground.

“Nice to know someone misses their family,” Dean mutters angrily.

Sam goes numb at Dean’s accusation. His mouth drops open and for a good while he just stares, unable to believe that his brother thinks he hadn’t missed him.

“I did miss you,” Sam finally answers. “I thought about you all the time. All I wanted was for you to be safe, and you were, so I stayed.”

“And now, even though they lied to you about my safety, you want to go back.” Dean crosses to the door and pulls it open.

“It’s not like I want to leave you.” Sam pleads even though he can tell it’s too late, at least for this time around.

“You want to go back to him, though.” Dean glares at him, and Sam lowers his eyes and nods.

“I do, but that’s not the same as wanting to leave you guys again. Maybe you could come with me, I could show you how he’s changed. He’s not like you think he is.” Sam’s heart lifts a little at the idea, but the look on Dean’s face is clear. No one’s going anywhere.

“It’s not happening, Sam. His agenda is the Apocalypse, and to do that he needs you, so you’re staying here.”

Dean steps over the threshold and pushes the door shut with a clank. Sam stares up at the slowly turning ceiling fan. There will be no convincing his brother, which means there will be no returning to Lucifer. 

Whatever Dean might think, he can’t end the Apocalypse from inside this room. Sam remembers the destruction Lucifer had wrought the last time he thought he’d lost Sam. This time there will be no last-minute rescue, no grace healing the wounds on his body and in his soul.

Sam can hear thunder outside. He sighs and shakes his head. It’s starting, and he’s the only one that can stop it.

He fishes the ring out of his pocket and rolls it back and forth between his fingers. It gives off tiny sparks of grace that tingle in Sam’s fingertips, nothing more.

“You knew, didn’t you?” he asks the ceiling. “You knew and you let me go anyway.”

Sam scrubs a hand over his face and sighs heavily. “I’m sorry, Lucifer,” he breathes to the darkness.


	14. What We Were Put Here For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration for Lucifer's true form/appearance in this chapter is drawn from euclase's [Lucifer II](http://euclase.deviantart.com/gallery/40993902#/d5fl9fz) painting (link to dA).

The iron door creaks on its rusted hinges. Judging by the stream of muttered obscenities Sam is greeted by, it’s definitely not Dean or Bobby. He’s up off the bed and at the threshold before Ruby can pull the door all the way open. The skin on her hands is cracked and smoking and there is panic in her eyes when she sees Sam.

“Oh my god! Ruby, your hands–“

Sam reaches out to grab her hands but she pulls them back, giving him a reproachful look. He realizes he’d been trying to pull her into the room and nods a silent apology.

“Is this why you didn’t come back?” She looks around the room with undisguised disgust.

“Yeah. They’ve kept me locked in here for a week now after I tried to explain about Lucifer.”

Sam makes no attempt to hide the bitterness in his voice. After his arguments with Dean, Sam had been more or less isolated. His repeated attempts to explain had been met with the cold shoulder, and what warmth there had been when they welcomed him home had cooled. Left alone with no company but his own thoughts and Lucifer’s ring, he spent his days wishing himself back to a room with a view of the forest, and cool hands, and grace.

“Explain what?” Ruby demands as she rubs her palms on the thighs of her jeans.

“That’s he’s not so bad,” Sam says, fondness evident in his voice. “That’s he just misunderstood, and that he can be compassionate and…” Sam lets the sentence trail off as he takes in the stricken expression on her face. “What happened?”

“Why did you leave?” She demands.

“Meg lied to me!” Sam spits out. “She told me Dean was dying. I didn’t think, I just-“

There is a creak in the floorboards upstairs. Ruby holds a finger to her lips even as Sam stops speaking, his eyes turned towards the ceiling. Sam just rolls his eyes.

“They’re not due down here for at least another couple hours. Don’t worry.” He gives Ruby a smile, but she doesn’t look any more relaxed.

“Okay,” she whispers, “fun reunion and all, but we gotta go, now. You have to come back with me.” Ruby motions with her hands and Sam steps out into the basement. He pushes the door shut carefully and locks it while Ruby watches the stairs. “Is there another way out of here?”

Sam checks his watch. “Give it a minute.”

As if on cue, the door closes and they both breathe out as the Impala roars to life, then rolls out of the driveway and fades into the distance. “Dean’s going out to buy food. Bobby’s probably got his nose buried in a book. If he didn’t notice you on the way in then he won’t notice us on the way out.”

They climb the stairs quietly. Sam shoots Ruby a look when she draws her knife out of its sheath, but she just gives him a one-shouldered shrug.

They move quickly to the door and run through the lot as soon as they’ve gotten clear of the house. Snow lies in deep drifts that bury cars, but the night sky is perfectly clear. Ruby’s car is half-hidden behind a copse of trees at the side of the road. The only telltale sign is the exhaust.

“You left it running?” Sam slides into the passenger seat, swearing under his breath as his knees bang against the dashboard in the tiny hatchback. He feels a pang of regret for sneaking out without telling anyone, but there would have been no way to convince them. The look on Ruby’s face told him that there was no time for long explanations, and Ruby had put herself in enough danger breaking into the house at all.

Ruby climbs into the driver’s seat and slams her door shut. She immediately throws the car into reverse and backs quickly out onto the road.

“Did you hotwire a car to come rescue me?”

“Are you impressed?” she asks, her mouth curling into a half-smile.

“I didn’t think you knew how to drive. I figured you just, y’know, zapped yourself wherever.”

“I do,” she says, glancing away from the road, “but I can’t take you with me. And besides,” she adds with a smirk, “how hard can it be to drive a car? It’s an automatic.”

Sam laughs to himself, then reaches out to turn on the heater.

“Here.” Ruby reaches into the inside of her jacket and pulls out a s silver flask. “You’re probably over the worst of it, but I thought I’d bring some anyway.”

Sam takes the flask and unscrews the cap, sniffing the contents.

“Demon blood? You brought me blood?”

“You’re going to need it, Sam. You need that, and he needs you. Now drink up.”

Ruby doesn’t look at him while she speaks, but her tone tells him that there will be no arguing, so he brings the flask to his lips and drinks.

The blood is thick and horribly cool, but it does its work quickly nonetheless. Sam feels strength spreading out into his limbs until he feels more powerful and alive than he has all week. His vision seems to stretch, and he feels as if he can will the car forward faster with just his mind.

What he can’t feel anywhere is Lucifer, and that frightens him. He thinks he should be able to tell, to see his angel even at this distance, and when he can’t he doesn’t know which of his shortcomings to blame it on. Something terrible has happened while he was away, and it is all Sam’s fault.

They drive in uncomfortable, weighted silence. Sam’s leg shakes with nervous energy. He watches the scenery fly past into the night and Ruby’s eyes never leave the road. Any exhilaration he might feel at the thought of seeing Lucifer again is tempered by Ruby’s obvious concern and fear, which only brings his own back to the surface. It’s been days since the weather has been anything but calm and clear, and Sam isn’t sure that’s a good sign.

“What happened?” Sam finally asks as Ruby maneuvers the car along the twisting two-lane road towards the house. “Why did Meg lie to me?”

“Lucifer sees us as daughters, or sisters. I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you, Sam, and when Meg saw it, she couldn’t take it.”

Sam pulls the ring out of his pocket and rolls it between his fingers. When Lucifer had given it to him it had been ice cold and there’d been the same trace of power that he’d felt when Lucifer kissed him. Now there’s almost nothing. Sam had hoped that he would feel more when he was out of the safe house, but even now that they’re on the road Sam can’t feel it. He feels the dark, pulsing power that he knows comes from the blood, but the shining light of Lucifer’s grace is significant in its absence.

“How is he?” Sam ventures, his voice loud in the silence inside the car.

Ruby stares straight ahead and doesn’t answer, but a muscle jumps in her jaw. Sam watches her and waits, but she just sucks at her teeth and glances down towards the instrument panel. Her knuckles whiten on the steering wheel and Sam shifts in his seat, suddenly much more concerned.

Her eyes cut to the side and Sam blows a frustrated breath out through his nose.

“What?” she snaps.

“Ruby, is Lucifer dying?” Sam asks. “Ruby!”

“I don’t know, Sam! Okay?” She looks over quickly at him, tears forming at the corner of her eyes. She pulls the car off to the side of the road and keeps talking as she slams the door and rushes towards the woods with Sam close behind her. “I don’t know. What happens to an angel when it doesn’t have a vessel anymore?”

They move quickly through the forest towards the house. Ruby steps surefootedly but pulls a penlight out of her pocket anyway. The tiny beam does little good. The path is better worn and the last few days have been calm so the path is dark but clear, edged by deep piles of snow. Sam can feel himself searching, trying to reach out and feel for Lucifer’s grace, but there is nothing there to meet him. Branches rasp at his clothes and the wet ground squelches under his boots. A sense of foreboding wells up inside him with every step.

The house comes into view and Sam breaks into a run, pushing past Ruby. There are no lights on in any of the windows. The house looks all but deserted, and when he stops running it goes eerily quiet. Even in the darkness he can see that the roses that had flourished when he left are now wilting and dying. He stops in the middle of the garden. He runs a hand over a flower and it crumples under his touch. Sam doesn’t know if he was expecting to feel something when he touched them, but there was nothing, and his fear increases. This is not a good sign. Lucifer had said the roses thrived because of love. If Lucifer’s heart was broken, would the roses reflect that, too?

“Sam, come on!”

He leaves the bushes and runs to the door that Ruby is holding open for him. They hurry up the stairs through the darkened building, their footsteps thumping up the steps before being swallowed when they land on the carpet.

“I still don’t understand. Was Meg jealous?” Sam turns left at the top of the stairs but Ruby waves for him to follow her to the right, up the next set of stairs to Sam’s room.

“She was scared. If Lucifer took you as his vessel, he wouldn’t need us anymore. She was afraid you were going to say yes, so she had to get you out of here and convince Lucifer you weren’t coming back. She told him you hated him, were disgusted by him.”

Sam stops dead on the stairs. Of all the nightmare scenarios he had dreamed up during his time in the panic room, this had not been among them. The idea that Lucifer had believed what Meg told him is awful, but that it led him to giving up completely only serves to add more guilt to his fear.

“I don’t hate him! I wanted to come back. Oh, god,” he sighs, realization dawning on his face.

“What?” she asks.

“That’s why he gave me this,” Sam says, holding up his hand to show her the ring. He’s had it squeezed tight in his fist ever since they left the car, hoping for it to give some sign, for him to feel something. “He didn’t expect me to come back. He wanted me to remember him.”

Sam’s heart is in his throat when they stop at the top of the stairs. The door to Sam’s room stands slightly open, hanging at an awkward angle on its hinges.

“Sam,” Ruby starts. Her voice is shaking. Sam wants to tell her that it will be all right now, but he’s too afraid of being wrong, and he can’t be. Not now. Not about this.

“He wanted you to be happy,” she continues.”He wanted that so badly that he sacrificed his own happiness for you.” She stops Sam when he reaches for the doorknob. The wood is splintered around it from where it’s been broken. “He hasn’t come out since you left.”

“Lucifer, please.” They hear Meg begging as Sam slowly pushes the door open. “You never needed him. Let me help you. I love you, we can do this together. But you need this.”

The room is unchanged, but Sam can feel the difference as soon as he steps in. The palpable energy that Sam has come to associate with Lucifer is missing and the room seems to gape, empty without it. His soul is reaching out, but there is nothing there to meet it, and without the support he’s longed for, it’s now all he can do stay standing.

Meg is kneeling beside the bed, and bile rises in Sam’s throat when he sees her. He wants to unmake her, to erase every effect that she has had on their lives since he was brought to this house.

The snowy landscape outside the windows reflects the moonlight back into the room, giving it an unearthly blue glow. All the glass is frosted over, and their comes out in puffs around their faces. Sam’s not sure whether it’s colder outside or here in his room.

When Sam gets closer he can see that Meg is bleeding heavily from one arm, left lying wrist-up on the bed near Lucifer’s head. “Please,” she whispers hoarsely.

Sam’s hands ball into fists at his sides and his vision darkens. The smell of Meg’s blood is everywhere in the room. Sam’s craving is strong, and it is only his fury with Meg that keeps him from succumbing to it. He will not give in and drink her blood, even as he imagines it dripping from his fingers when he rips her throat out for doing this to Lucifer.

“Meg.” Ruby pushes past Sam, shaking him out of his thoughts. She reaches down and pulls Meg to her feet. Meg leans heavily against her but reaches back towards Lucifer. There is an unfamiliar three-sided silver blade hanging limply in her hand.

“He needs it, Ruby. He’s dying.” Meg struggles weakly as Ruby moves her away from the bed. “ _No,_ ” she whines when she sees Sam standing by the door, “not him. No.”

Sam staggers forward into the room. All his rage rushes out of him like wind when he sees Lucifer.

“Sam…?” Lucifer’s voice is weak but incredulous, and he struggles to smile when he sees Sam coming towards him. Sam sinks down onto the bed beside him, reminding himself to breathe. Lucifer is on his side, curled in on himself. “I thought-“

He stops speaking when he sees Sam staring. Lucifer tries to bring a hand up to hide his face but Sam pushes it away as he takes in the sight before him. The sores that had marked his face have turned to eyes, some black and shining, others milky white and sightless. There are six bleeding wounds along his back. His breathing is shallow and labored and his lips are smeared with blood. Sam can’t tell if it’s Meg’s or Lucifer’s own.

There was a time when Sam felt horror at the very idea of touching Lucifer, but now he wants nothing more than to take him in his arms and heal him. He would give him whatever he can in order to restore him. Lucifer is dying because Sam left him and he can think of only one way to fix it.

“What?” Sam breathes, reaching out to touch Lucifer. “Your face.”

“My true form,” Lucifer replies, shying away from Sam’s touch.

“I’m so sorry,” Sam says, his eyes still flitting over Lucifer’s body, taking in all the damage. “I’ll explain later, I promise, but first...”

Sam takes a deep breath and nods to himself. It’s a step he never thought he’d take, but now that he’s sure it comes with a certain sense of relief. It’s not that he’s not scared, but he won’t lose Lucifer, and this is the only way left. Not after everything it took to bring them together. “First we gotta get you into a new body.”

There is a roar of fury behind them. Sam turns to look and sees Meg rushing forward, Lucifer’s blade held high in her hand. Ruby runs after her, tackling her around the waist and driving them both to the ground. The blade falls out of Meg’s hand and rolls away as Ruby pins Meg to the floor. Meg turns her head to look at Lucifer, but Sam is still half-covering his body where he’d leaned over to protect him from Meg.

“Don’t listen to him!” Meg shrieks. Her boots scrabble on the floor as she struggles to get out from under Ruby. “He left you!”

“Because you lied to me!” Sam shouts back over his shoulder, his anger boiling over at Meg’s accusations. “I would _never_ have left if I hadn’t thought Dean was dying!” Tears catch on Sam’s lashes as he screams at her, but Lucifer’s eyes never leave Sam’s face.

Ruby buries her knife unceremoniously in Meg’s chest and the light leaves Meg’s eyes.

“Never?” Lucifer whispers, one hand curling around Sam’s wrist. He’s weak and so very cold. His grace barely prickles over Sam’s skin but Sam can feel how his soul responds, and he lets his eyes fall closed, only for a moment. Hot tears roll down his cheeks and he pulls in a shaky breath.

“She can’t save him, Sam. You’re the one, you’ve _always_ been the only one who could save him,” Ruby says, her voice breaking. “Please.”

“I don’t know how to do this, Lucifer,” Sam whispers roughly. “You have to stay with me so you can help me.”

Sam holds one hand above Lucifer’s body, looking for somewhere undamaged that he can touch him. He settles for twining their fingers together.

“You came back. I thought you ran away.” Lucifer pants with exertion. When he coughs blood spatters the sheets under his mouth.

“They wouldn’t let me leave when I got there. All I wanted was to come back, I swear. You gave me my freedom and they took it away again. They wouldn’t listen to me.” Sam babbles faster and faster as he watches Lucifer fade right in front of him. He needs to get Lucifer out of his vessel quickly, but he doesn’t know how, and even as he talks he knows he’s running out of time.

“I would have given you anything,” Lucifer whispers. His voice is thick and wet. He smiles weakly up at Sam and Sam chokes back a sob.

“I know that now. But, me first, I guess.” He squares his shoulders and looks down at Lucifer with a pained expression. “Yes, Lucifer.”

“What? Why?”

“You can’t stay in this vessel.” Sam reaches back away from the bed blindly. “Ruby, gimme your knife.”

Lucifer looks at his hands blearily and frowns. “No, Sam,” he says dismissively.

“Come on. It’ll be okay.”

“You’re gonna need more blood,” Ruby says. She’s standing next to him, looking back and forth from Lucifer to Sam and back. She sits down next to Sam on the bed and draws the blade of her knife across the inside of her forearm, then extends it out in front of him.

Ruby hands over her knife and Sam sets it on the bed next to him. She watches him with uncertainty as he looks down at her arm.

“Just, uhh, don’t take it all, okay?” She laughs, but it comes out flat and wrong. “You need it to take Lucifer in.”

“No, Sam,” Lucifer whines. He tries to lift his arm to stop him, but he makes it no further than Sam’s thigh.

“I won’t lose you again.” Sam covers Lucifer’s hand with his own and uses the other to hold Ruby’s arm steady.

He doesn’t know how much he drinks. His vision darkens, so he closes his eyes, and when Lucifer begs him to stop, he just squeezes his hand. He’s let Lucifer down time and time again, but now he can finally make it right. He can give Lucifer this one last thing, and then they never have to be apart again.

He drinks until he can feel it moving through his body, pulses of power that roll in time with his heartbeat. He’s jacked up and overstimulated. He thinks he could rip reality in two, but that’s not what he wants. He wants to bring together, not tear apart.

Sam straightens and Ruby’s arm falls down into her lap. There are shadows under her eyes. She sways for a moment, and Sam reaches out to steady her, then eases her down onto the bed near Lucifer’s feet. He can only hope he didn’t take too much.

He unbuttons his shirt and pulls down the collar of his t-shirt to reveal his anti-possession tattoo. Taking the knife in his other hand, he draws the tip over the tattoo, cutting a line straight through it. Blood beads along the cut, spilling down over his chest when he presses the knife to his skin again. He makes another cut in his skin perpendicular to the first one, then lets the knife clatter to the floor.

“Lucifer, is there anything else?”

Lucifer sighs and clears his throat, but doesn’t answer.

“Let me do this for you.” Sam is breathing hard but his voice is steady.

“Why?” Lucifer asks, staring at the ruined tattoo.

Sam lets go of the collar of his shirt and reaches down to set a hand on Lucifer’s jaw. “Because I can, and I want to.”

“Luckily I get to be the one who makes the last call here, and I’m not going,” Lucifer says. Even in his weakness he is still resolute, but this time Sam is stronger.

“Don’t leave me,” Sam begs.

Lucifer’s eyes slip closed and he goes impossibly still.

Sam lifts Lucifer’s hand and presses it to his chest over the tattoo. “Come on. Move. I said yes, dammit.” He leans forward and presses his lips to Lucifer’s. They are cool and damp, but unanswering. “I love you,” he whispers against Lucifer’s mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHOOSE YOUR OWN ENDING
> 
> This story has two endings. Clicking "Next Chapter" will take you to the first one, the fairytale ending.
> 
> The chapter after that is a darker ending, more along the lines of Supernatural's canon. It's [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/535413/chapters/1113942), if you want to go directly to that one. Warning for major character death.


	15. Like Gods Of The Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of two endings available for this story. This is the fairytale ending.
> 
> The next chapter listed is the other ending. It's darker, more in line with Supernatural's canon.

There are no fireworks; there is no magical transformation. There is only a sharp intake of breath and then Lucifer is coughing and sputtering, moving back away from Sam on the bed, his eyes gone wide and wondering.

Sam kneels on the bed and leans towards Lucifer, following after him on instinct. He cups Lucifer’s face, runs a thumb over his cheekbone and brushes his fingers along his forehead as he smiles. He allows relief to well up inside him as he takes in Lucifer’s improved condition.

Lucifer’s skin is smooth. The sores on his hands and face have disappeared, and the flesh under Sam’s fingers is warm to the touch. When he opens his eyes again to look up at Sam they’re the same clear blue that they were that first night, with the same intensity. Everywhere that they are touching, Sam can feel the bright, vital pull of his grace. It is the most beautiful thing he’s ever felt.

Sam rocks back on his heels and grins. Ruby sits up slowly and takes in the scene before her. Sam is glad to see her revived, but all his attention is on Lucifer.

She reaches out tentatively towards Lucifer. “Is he-“

“I’m fine, child,” Lucifer says, somewhat breathlessly. “I’m fine.” He pushes himself up slowly. Sam wraps an arm protectively around his waist when Lucifer sits up and moves to the edge of the bed. Even the blood that marked the back of his t-shirt is gone.

“You’re warm,” Sam says, his fingers curling against Lucifer’s side. Sam can hardly believe it, and understanding it seems impossible, but what’s more is that he doesn’t care. Lucifer is alive and healed, and that’s enough.

Lucifer nods, looking down at his body. His mouth curls up into a smile that’s more genuine than any Sam can remember seeing. It’s a wonderful sight.

“I’m free.” Lucifer starts. “I’m – the punishment has been lifted.”

“And all you had to do was nearly die? Wow. Some curse.” Sam laughs. He’s reeling from everything that’s happened. It was only hours ago that he was in Bobby’s panic room, alone and frantic, but now he’s back with Lucifer, and they’re both safe. It’s a miracle if ever saw one, and he is overjoyed.

“All I had to do was see what my father saw in humanity,” Lucifer explains patiently after a moment. “I had to learn to love them, or at least one of them. Turns out that was the easy part.”

“You mean me?” Sam asks. Even after everything that’s happened he still feels unsure. He’s not worth the love of an angel, no matter how much he might want it.

Lucifer smiles and nods. “It was always you, Sam.”

Sam opens his mouth to say more but Lucifer silences him with a finger to his lips.

“That was only half of it,” Lucifer continues. Something in his expression softens. “You had to love me in return.”

Sam grins and pulls Lucifer close, kissing him full on the lips, relishing in the warmth of his skin. He pushes his hands up under Lucifer’s t-shirt and spreads his fingers wide, taking in as much warmth as he can. He wants to wrap his angel up in his arms and never let him go again.

He’s had enough precious things taken from him to know that he needs to hold onto them while he can.

Lucifer breaks the kiss at the sound of a crash and footsteps pounding up the stairs.

Ruby looks at him, wide-eyed and panicky. “The wards don’t work anymore,” Lucifer explains, and Sam’s heart sinks. He knows what’s coming. He had hoped their peace would last longer than this.

“Sam! Where the hell are you?” Dean’s voice mixes with Castiel and Bobby’s shouts. Lucifer, Sam and Ruby are all still for a moment while they listen to doors being kicked in and Dean’s increasing agitation. Castiel’s low rumble says something indecipherable and Dean screams back at him.

“I don’t give a crap which angel he is! I don’t need to kill him, just stop him long enough to get my brother back!”

Dean and his party find the stairs up to Sam’s room and Ruby’s eyes flick black. She picks up her knife and moves to stand between Lucifer and the door.

“Ruby, no!” Sam shouts as the door swings open. A shotgun blast sends Ruby staggering back across the floor and the three of them follow it in.

Lucifer goes to Ruby’s side and Sam steps in front of them, blocking Dean’s view. He looks back over his shoulder. Lucifer has pulled her half into his lap and has a hand pressed over the wound darkening her t-shirt. She digs the heels of her boots into the floor, trying to move further back as Dean steps into the room.

Castiel and Bobby fan out to either side of Dean, who pulls up short when he sees Meg’s body. He levels his gun at Sam.

“Can you help her?” Sam asks, glancing back at Lucifer. He’s got his arms spread wide, keeping Dean from getting a clear shot on either of them. Lucifer looks up at him and nods, and the knot in Sam’s stomach loosens a little. 

“Move, Sammy.” Dean motions with the gun. Bobby is also armed and moving to his other side. There’s no way Sam will be able to shield them from both.

Castiel is completely still, frozen in place as he stares at the scene behind Sam. Lucifer spares him a glance, but nothing more, before he turns back to Ruby.

“Dean, listen to me. You can’t kill him.” Sam is on the verge of panic, his eyes darting between Bobby and Dean’s guns.

“Watch me try,” Dean snarls, lifting the shotgun to aim. 

“Dean, I love him!”

“Dean, stop!”

Sam and Castiel speak at the same time and Dean’s head whips around to look from one to the other. He lowers his shotgun and points at Castiel, holding up a hand to silence Sam. Sam heaves a sigh but is silent. Castiel told Dean to stay his hand, and Sam is hopeful that Castiel can see the truth of the situation. He doesn’t think his brother will believe him if he tries to explain.

“You first,” Dean growls. Castiel narrows his eyes and nods towards Lucifer.

“Something’s changed. He’s not— He’s still Lucifer, but the marks of Hell are gone from him,” Castiel explains, his eyes roaming over Lucifer’s body. “He is, for all intents and purposes, just an angel now.”

Castiel’s brow is furrowed in confusion, and Sam nods when he looks at him. “How?” Castiel asks.

“That part I can explain,” Sam says, “but everyone’s gotta put down their guns first.”

Dean and Bobby exchange a glance. As soon as they set their weapons on the floor Sam turns away from them and helps Rub and Lucifer to their feet. Lucifer steps forward to stand next to Sam, but Ruby stays behind, peeking nervously out from between them. Sam can feel Lucifer’s grace where their arms brush against each other. It’s a calming reassurance that gives him strength. He has to make them understand.

“All right Sammy, get to talking,” Dean says, arms folded across his chest.

“I told you when I came home that there was a new offer on the table: that Lucifer might not have to possess me anymore,” he starts slowly, looking to Lucifer for confirmation. Lucifer nods and Sam continues. “I never got to find out what the deal was until now, when I came back.”

“How’d you pull that off, anyway?” Bobby asks from across the room. He sounds vaguely offended that someone had bested his panic room.

“I let him out, and I’d do it again,” Ruby replies, leaning out from behind Sam.

“What was the deal?” Dean barks.

“Lucifer had to see what God sees in humanity. He had to fall in love with a human, with a person. And,” Sam reaches down and takes Lucifer’s hand, “that person had to learn to love him back, in spite of everything they knew about him, everything they’d ever been told.”

Dean arches an eyebrow and looks skeptically between them. “And that person’s you?”

“Yes,” Sam answers decisively.

“Cas,” Dean calls back over his shoulder, and Castiel moves to stand next to him, “is any of this bullshit true?”

Castiel nods, his eyes never leaving Lucifer. “He’s completely contained within that vessel now, and Sam isn’t lying.”

“Did you know this could happen?” Dean asks. He turns his head to look at Castiel, but gestures between Lucifer and Sam.

“No,” Castiel admits, turning his eyes to Dean, “but our Father is known for his forgiveness, as well as his vengefulness.”

“So that’s it then?” Dean asks. Castiel and Lucifer nod, and Sam can feel the thrill of Lucifer’s grace. He’s relieved. Even if Dean is willing to take Castiel’s word over Sam’s own, it’s enough for now that he accepts the truth. There will be time enough to prove it to him, as long as they can get over this first hurdle.

Ruby steps around Sam and glances between the angels. “What about the Apocalypse?” she asks, worrying at her lower lip.

“Postponed indefinitely,” Lucifer says with a smile.

“What about your army?” Ruby presses, watching him from under heavy brows. “What about Hell? We’re all waiting for you.”

“And now you’re all free to do as you like,” Lucifer answers. “I would imagine there are demons that would jump at the chance to take over management down there. Let them fight over it. I never wanted it.”

“What if I want to keep doing what I was doing?” she asks, looking down at her hands. “What if I still want to stay with you?”

Sam holds out a hand and Ruby takes it. He pulls her in close to his side and snakes his other arm around Lucifer’s waist. Ruby has been an important part of Sam’s time here, and though their time as a couple may be over, he still values her as a friend.

“I think you two could make pretty fair hunters,” he says, looking from them to the group across the room. They look less certain, but Sam is hopeful.

Dean walks forward slowly, looking Lucifer over. Sam tenses but Lucifer just tilts his head. “Sorry, Dean. I’m taken. Get your own angel.”

Dean reddens visibly as Castiel coughs delicately. “What happens to him now?” he asks, squinting as he looks in Lucifer’s eyes.

“My vessel will age and die with me inside it,” Lucifer says plainly. “If I behave, I get to return to Heaven when he, I, my vessel, dies.”

“That’s very unusual,” Castiel comments.

Lucifer shrugs. “I think we can agree that, as angels go, so am I. Call it part two of my rehab program.”

Dean is still looking at Lucifer like he expects him to attack them. “So if I stuck you in the gut with a knife right now-“

“Dean!” Sam interrupts. “Dude, did you not hear the part where I said I love him?”

Dean glares at him, but Lucifer just straightens his shoulders and grins back. “He’s the devil.”

“Not anymore he’s not,” Sam insists. He had thought this part was settled. “I get that this is going to take some getting used to-“ Dean scoffs but Sam continues, “-but if you can’t trust him yet, trust me.”

Sam waits for Dean’s answer. He knows why his brother is reluctant to trust him in him, but he also knows that he doesn’t want to be forced to choose. He loves his family, but Lucifer is also a part of that now, and Sam will fight to hold on to both of them. He just doesn’t want to have to.

After a moment Dean’s expression softens. He drags a hand over his face and nods. “All right, fine. We’ll try it. But one hair out of line and so help me.”

Ruby and Lucifer are both smirking but Sam is grinning broadly. He can see in Dean’s eyes that the argument is over, at least for the time being. “Thank you, Dean. It means a lot.”

“What now?” Dean asks, throwing up his hands.

“I could eat,” Ruby volunteers.

“What do you eat anyway?” Dean asks. “Raw meat? Children?”

“I like French fries, thanks,” she shoots back.

“Shut up, all of you,” Bobby shouts. “You two in the Impala with me,” he says, pointing Dean and Castiel. “You three are gonna take my truck back,” He fishes the keys out of his pocket and tosses them towards Sam but Ruby catches them one-handed. “We’re going home and we’re gonna eat and figure out what the hell we do next. Now c’mon.”

He picks up his shotgun and starts towards the door. Castiel turns to follow him, beckoning for Dean, who backs slowly towards the stairs, not wanting to let Lucifer out of his sight.

“Watch your step,” Lucifer says, pointing to Meg’s body. Dean stops just in time and turns when he steps over her, disappearing down the stairs.

Ruby goes first and Sam follows her with Lucifer close behind. “I think I like Bobby,” Lucifer says.

“You’d be the first,” Sam grumbles, but he’s smothering a grin. He’s deliriously happy.

They file out into the early morning sunshine. The first trio has already disappeared down the path, but their voices carry back towards the house. It’s a bright day and the trees cut the light into broken beams. As they walk through the garden Sam notices that the roses have returned and taken over, shaking off snow to make a thicket of deep green leaves spotted with clusters of vibrant red. He stops to look at them and smiles, remembering how sure he’d been of his feelings the day that he’d left Lucifer standing in the garden. He’s thankful for this new chance, and tells himself that he won’t take a minute of it for granted, not after how close he came to losing it all.

“I asked you how you kept them alive, and you said ‘love’,” Sam says, lifting his eyes to glance at Lucifer, who’s standing beside him. “You meant me.”

“Yes,” Lucifer replies, one corner of his mouth curling up.

“Why let me go? Why not tell me then?”

Lucifer shrugs, but Sam holds his gaze steady. “I didn’t think you would believe me if I told you then. I didn’t want you to think it was a trick to get you to stay. I thought... I thought it would be better for you, and that it was better for me to spend the time I had left in uncertainty, rather than telling you how I felt and scaring you away.”

Sam turns away from the flowers to face Lucifer. He runs his hands up Lucifer’s arms and pulls him into a hug, breathing in the scent of Lucifer’s hair.

“You know that’s a load of crap, right?” he says gently, and he feels Lucifer nod against his chest. He pulls back just enough to look Lucifer in the eyes. The love that he sees there is staggering, and he can only hope that it’s mirrored in his own face. “There was no way I wasn’t coming back for you. No one’s ever made me feel this whole, this right before. This works, and I don’t care if they don’t understand it. I’ve never been this happy, and I’m not giving it up without a fight.”

Their noses bump when they kiss. It’s short and sweet, just a press of lips coupled with the sparks of grace that flow between them. Lucifer’s warmth is still new after so many weeks of his unnatural chill. The thought of what it will be like in bed comes unbidden into Sam’s mind and he grins against Lucifer’s mouth. They’re going to a house full of people, so that will have to wait, but they have time.

Lucifer steps back out of the embrace with a smile. “We should go,” he says, nodding back towards the path, “before your brother thinks I’ve sacrificed you or something.”

Sam laughs. “He’ll come around. You’ll see.” And Sam is sure that he will. It will take time, but Dean wants his brother to be happy, and even if this isn’t the partner he would have chosen, Sam is confident that he’ll be able to convince everyone that this is what he wants, and that there’s no danger in it.

Sam turns away from the garden and hurries to catch up to Lucifer, who has moved to the edge of the path and is waiting with his hand extended for Sam to take. Sam tangles their fingers together and they start up the path, and into their future.


	16. Glory, Shine It On Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the darker ending for this story. Warning for major character death.
> 
> If you're more interested in a fairytale ending, you'll want the previous chapter, Like Gods Of The Sun.

Sam is floating, detached from himself. His eyes have become windows and his limbs are sluggish and unresponsive. He sees Lucifer’s body lying limp and ruined on the bed, and there are thick, dark storm clouds gathering outside the windows. The room is filled with an electric energy that makes Sam’s hair stand on end.

He’s never been so cold in his life.

_“Stop fighting me, Sam.”_ He doesn’t hear a voice, but he feels Lucifer’s words in his head all the same. The familiar scent of Lucifer fills Sam’s head and he feels a chill spreading out from his chest to fill his body. It’s better than any drug he’s ever tried, better than anything he’s ever imagined.

He feels powerful and energized but also very, very angry. There’s rage in him that eats away at every other feeling he has, so intense that it borders on pain. He feels an overwhelming sense of righteousness and his purpose is bent on destruction.

Sam looks down at his hands and is surprised to see that he’s not glowing. Jimmy had described being Castiel’s vessel as being chained to a comet, but Sam is more closely reminded of when Lucifer had taken them to the center of a star. There is light, and power, and everywhere Lucifer’s grace.

Amusement washes over him followed by a powerful wave of affection that wraps around his heart and stirs low in his belly.

_“Lucifer?”_ he says, and there’s affirmation there. _“Are you… in here now?”_ More affirmation.

_“Let me take control.”_ Lucifer’s voice comes to him again. _“I don’t want to fight you.”_

_“What happens to me?”_ Sam asks, frightened.

Lucifer’s voice is calm and reassuring. _“You get to stay with me and watch. Be the angel on_ my _shoulder. Let me take care of you.”_

_“Do I have a choice?”_ Lucifer’s own sense of absolute confidence is infectious, and Sam is already less afraid, but still unsure. He does not regret his decision. Saving Lucifer was what he wanted and he would do it again, but he hasn’t forgotten what Lucifer said the last time they’d talked about possession.

_“Why would I want to erase you? I love you.”_ Lucifer’s voice doesn’t come from any particular direction. _“I want to have you with me, now, when I am at my most glorious.”_

The conversation is accompanied by the steady hum of Lucifer’s grace. It pulses in time with Sam’s heartbeat, calming his fears with a silent promise of love and protection. _Surrender to me and nothing bad will happen to you._ Sam’s agreement moves at the speed of thought and he finds himself pushed back against the far wall of his mind, an observer within his own head. He relinquishes control over all his muscles, and there is a split-second sensation of falling before Lucifer adjusts, and they remain standing.

Ruby stirs on the bed and pushes herself up slowly to a sit, resting her head in her hands. Sam expects to feel a swell of relief to match his own, but all that comes from Lucifer is a vague sense of satisfaction. He’s pleased she’s not dead, nothing more. He wonders about her assertion that Lucifer thought of Ruby and Meg as daughters, and he feels Lucifer’s smirk.

_“Your interest in Ruby makes her valuable, and Meg, well. She would have died for me.”_ He glances back over his shoulder to where her body still lies on the floor. _“They’re more tolerable than average, but love? No. I love you, Sam. They’re just pretty cannon fodder.”_

Sam wants to be shocked, but everything he feels is buffered by Lucifer’s grace and the angel’s own emotions, so all he can muster is a hollow sort of amazement, like he should have seen it sooner.

Ruby stands shakily. She looks up at Lucifer and smiles, her eyes sparkling with tears. Lucifer is utterly unmoved when she grins and laughs and puts a tentative hand on his chest.

“We did it,” she whispers, looking up into his eyes. Sam sees the love and adoration there, but Lucifer is not impressed.

He looks down at her and nods, taking her face in his hands to kiss her on the forehead. She jumps up and throws her arms around him and he holds her tight for a moment, then sets her down. The scent of her perfume comes to Sam through the cold, dry fog of grace that fills his head now.

“Is Carthage proceeding as planned?” he asks. Lucifer might not be interested in Ruby, but he is very interested in her answer.

Ruby nods. “Just waiting for you.”

_“What’s in Carthage?”_ Sam asks. He knows there are things that Lucifer and Ruby never told him, and he figures that this must be a part of it.

_“Death,”_ comes the answer, filled with pride and purpose. _“What did you expect, Sam? You’ve got a front row seat to the Apocalypse. Everything I’ve ever done has been for love. You didn’t think that loving you would stop me now, did you?”_

And so they go to Missouri. They sacrifice a town to raise a horseman and begin the end, and eventually, eventually Sam stops screaming.

Lucifer is always kind to him, always explaining why the death and destruction is necessary, and with no one to contradict him, Sam starts to understand. He stops being able to tell which thoughts are his and which are Lucifer’s. Sam’s entire world is filtered through the burning grace of an archangel who is poised for victory and convinced of his own invincibility. Lucifer plucks at the darkness inside of Sam, nurturing it and stoking it until Sam’s resistance turns to compliance. Everything begins to make sense, and the only time Sam stops hurting is when he’s hurting someone else, or when he has Ruby spread out underneath him, dark and wicked when she worships him.

Sam starts to understand, and he starts to agree. It is only a matter of time before he starts to help.

Sam knows about things like subway stations and airplanes, why they’re so effective when it comes to spreading a virus out over the globe. Lucifer is grateful, and he uses his hands and Ruby’s body to show Sam how much he appreciates his help and support.

_“You’re perfect, Sam. I love you, and we’ll be together forever,”_ he murmurs as he thrusts into her again and again. He lets Sam take control of his body during these times, but always Lucifer is there. His grace ripples under Sam’s skin, better than the touch of a lover, and he whispers filthy praise inside Sam’s head.

Lucifer’s rage is the only thing that burns brighter than his love for Sam, and Sam is drawn to both like a moth to a flame. The power is intoxicating and Sam becomes an addict. He revels in watching the plan unfold and it’s ecstasy when Lucifer whispers vows to him about how he will rebuild the world just for them.

Lucifer still needs blood. The first time he drinks, Sam is glad that he had adjusted to the idea before Lucifer possessed him. For Sam it was an experiment that had given unexpectedly powerful results, but for Lucifer it is a necessity that he both hates and relishes. Being in his true vessel has not lessened his need. In fact, it has increased, to the point where the demons he drinks from die. Lucifer draws pleasure from killing them, but detests that he must rely on them.

_“Look what He makes me do,”_ he growls as he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. The body slides clumsily to the floor and Lucifer kicks it as he steps over it. _“No other angel has to do this. Even when I am succeeding, He does me this injustice.”_

It’s Sam who suggests killing Ruby. They have been spending more and more time apart as the pieces of the plan fall into place, and Ruby is bitter. She sees her place as Queen of Hell slipping through her fingers and they argue, because she is insecure and starting to realize what Sam has known for a while. There is no place for her in Lucifer’s new world. She is no longer needed. Lucifer is every partner Sam will ever need.

He fucks her one last time. He’s rough but she likes it, giving as good as she gets, trading in the currency of scratches and bite marks. Afterwards she’s blissed out and drowsy, and when Sam pulls out the knife he hid under the pillow, she bites at her lower lip and nods, then tilts her head to expose her neck.

“I would’ve stayed with you forever,” she whispers in his ear as her life drains out of her body.

_“I didn’t want you to,”_ Sam thinks to himself, and Lucifer hums agreement inside his head. But he tucks her into bed and wipes the tears from her cheeks before he leaves her in a cheap motel room in a city he can’t be bothered to remember the name of. It’s better this way. Lucifer is all he needs now.

Lucifer was all he ever needed.

Together in Sam’s body they travel, and at every border they are met by gods from religions Sam has read about or heard mentioned, and many that were too small to ever make their way out into the world, to be recorded in a book or to cause enough trouble to attract attention.

Some are angry at the destruction of the human race and the decimation of their peoples. They try to bargain with Lucifer, or to fight him. He is stabbed with knives made of gold, silver, or the wood of a holy tree. He is shot with arrows and bullets. Once he is bound and whipped with a chain engraved with Enochian sigils. It is not the sort of thing these gods should have known how to do, and when Lucifer finds the traitorous demons responsible for teaching them how to trap an archangel, he rips them limb from limb and licks their blood off his fingers.

Lucifer travels to South America. The sky is grey and the wind whips up a storm, waves crashing into the coast with a desperate sort of violence, as if the ocean wants nothing so much as to swarm around Lucifer and drag him out to sea. He is immovable as he walks along the beach. Sam had suggested he take off his shoes and socks, and now waves lap at his bare feet. They’re so far south that the water has turned cold again, and off near the horizon he can see icebergs moving.

A shape approaches them, walking along the waterline. Lucifer stops walking and turns to look out over the Pacific, watching the slow curl of the clouds as they organize into a hurricane, too far south and far too cold, but there nonetheless. It’s the sort of weather that follows Lucifer around. He reassures Sam that the sun will shine endlessly when their work is done, but right now Sam can’t recall the last time he saw a blue sky. He doesn’t mind. The light that surrounds him inside his own mind is brighter than any star, and he doesn’t even remember what it’s like to be warm.

_“Walking pretty slowly for someone coming to kill you,”_ Sam reflects dryly. When gods had first begun attacking Lucifer he’d been frightened and concerned, babbled about rituals and spells, certain weapons and paraphernalia that could be used to kill them.

It turned out that pretty much every god was mortal enough to die when their heart was ripped from their chests, and Sam was lulled back into complacence. They were monsters, just like every other monster he’d fought. It was just more proof of the justness of Lucifer’s cause. Humans weren’t the only thing that Earth needed to be cleansed of.

Lucifer sighs quietly and doesn’t answer right away. _“Temáukel. He’s not coming to kill me. He’s coming to_ reason _with me.”_ There is disdain in Lucifer’s voice. Sam can hear the grimace.

This happened sometimes, especially with particularly ancient gods who had watched over peaceful people. They just wanted Lucifer to go away, spare them, _they wouldn’t cause any trouble, please, just go._ It never worked.

Sam feels a pang of pity for the approaching figure. There’d been a time when he, too, had tried to convince Lucifer that humanity was worth sparing.

Lucifer turns his head to watch. The figure is still too far away to make out any features. He walks with a staff but doesn’t lean on it. The mist and low light make it impossible to see any form of dress or decoration.

Lucifer sighs and flicks his wrist. A high wave rolls towards the shore, crashes against the figure, and retreats. He stops walking, but stands resolutely on the shoreline. Lucifer sighs and shakes his head before sending another wave in, this one even higher and more brutal. It roars when it engulfs Temáukel, but still fails to sweep him out to sea.

“This is my water, angel,” comes a calm, surprisingly warm voice. “I would ask you to leave these islands and the people here in peace.”

“Or?” Lucifer asks.

The ocean rises higher, soaking the rolled up cuffs of his pants. It foams and swirls around his legs, and Lucifer looks down at it, curious. “Really?” he chuckles.

Sam feels the flare of Lucifer’s grace. He had wanted to be alone and doesn’t appreciate the interruption, so the game will be over quickly. Lucifer raises his hand in a loosely balled fist. He splays his fingers wide and the there is a wet pop further down the beach. The tide rolls in and Lucifer steps back away from the water. When he looks, Sam can see that they’re alone again.

“They’re gone,” Lucifer says, looking out to see, then up towards the sky. “Or if they’re still there, then they’re locked so far away that I can’t see them.”

It’s rare that Lucifer speaks to Sam out loud, but there’s no one else on the beach so he indulges himself. He likes the sound of Sam’s voice, and Sam waits patiently for him to continue.

“I wanted to share this with them, my brothers and sisters. This was never about hurting them. I still love them, even though I know they wanted to kill me.”

He pushes his hands down into his pockets and strolls along the beach, letting the surf lap at his feet. Sam can feel his sadness and his grief. He does what he can to shine on his own, to show Lucifer how much he loves him and how much he means to him, but Sam knows that he can not replace Lucifer’s lost family.

“I thought when they saw that I was winning, that they would stay. That maybe they’d begin to understand. God is gone. They didn’t have to stay confined to Heaven. I never wanted to be a kind. I would gladly have given them this gift, but they understood me as little as our Father did, and so they left. My family hated me so much that they abandoned everything they’ve known, rather than joining me in Paradise.”

Tears roll down Lucifer’s cheeks. He brushes them away with his hand. _“I’m your family now,”_ Sam tells him, doing his best to soothe him. _“I love you, and I will never leave you.”_

Time passes differently for Sam now. He has no idea how long they stand in silence on the beach and watch the storm.

All the pieces are in motion now. The Croatoan virus is spreading, and Lucifer’s role becomes almost ceremonial. He appears to groups of demons, using a careful combination of praise and punishment to coerce them into deeds of ever greater violence, while Sam looks on with grim satisfaction.

It is after one of these assemblies, when Lucifer is full of blood and his grace is burning bright with vengeful glory, that Sam asks him for more. Lucifer understands. They’ve moved up in the world, so when Lucifer stretches out on the bed it’s in a five-star hotel with soft sheets and feather pillows. They don’t need a woman when they have each other, and the inside of Sam’s head echoes with their pants and moans until muscles tighten and then there is the most incredible release, made stronger by grace and the dark power that comes from demon blood.

They’re a good team, and Sam is a willful participant in Armageddon until one day in Jackson County when his brother comes to meet them.

_“Don’t kill him, please,”_ Sam begs frantically. _“You know the gun won’t work.”_

Lucifer tuts. _“I can’t let Dean know what it would feel like to kill me, Sam. It’ll put the taste of blood in his mouth.”_

_“You don’t have to do this.”_ Sam is desperate and panicking. Dean coming here wakes feelings that he hasn’t experienced for years. It hurts and he’s scared, and for the first time in a long time he’s confused. He feels doubt.

_“Yes, I do,”_ Lucifer replies with sad resignation. _“There are things out there that would kill me and if he finds them then all this will be for nothing. He and his little rebel army have to be stopped.”_

_“He’s my brother!”_ Sam screams, harnessing Lucifer’s rage and turning it against him. _“Let him go!”_

Sam struggles so hard that tears well up in Lucifer’s eyes. He presses his fists to his temples and sways on the spot as they wrestle for control inside his head. Lucifer is all that Sam has known for years, and now that Dean is close Sam longs for him. He loves Lucifer more than life itself, but he can’t be a witness to his brother’s execution.

Lucifer wraps Sam in a blanket of calm sadness and regret. _“I’m sorry, Sam.”_

_“Then don’t make me watch,”_ Sam pleads. Every part of him that’s left is suddenly aching and tired.

For the first time there is utter silence inside Sam’s head. His shoulders sag and his arms fall to his sides as Lucifer takes in the weight of his words.

_“You said when you possessed me that you could destroy me if you wanted,”_ Sam pushes.

_“Sam.”_ Lucifer’s tone is warning now.

_“Do it,”_ he demands. _“I don’t want to be a part of this anymore if it means killing him.”_

_“I told you if you died that I would drag you out of Hell myself.”_ Lucifer is softness and compassion now, and the warmth of his love flows around Sam like an embrace. Sam accepts it and returns it tenfold.

_“I remember,”_ Sam says warmly.

The light of Lucifer’s grace flares so brightly that he’s temporarily blinded. _“When our war is won I will tear Heaven apart to get you back.”_

_“I know you will,”_ Sam answers.

The last thing Sam remembers is the softness of rose petals between his fingers.

When Dean comes around the corner carrying the Colt he finds Lucifer alone, surrounded by roses blooming out of season. He gives Dean a sad smile, and his cheeks are streaked with tears.

“Give me back my brother, you bastard!” Dean bellows.

Before he can fire Lucifer flicks his wrist and Dean’s body crumples to the ground. Lucifer drops down to one knee and puts his lips to Dean’s ear.

“Tell both our brothers that I love them, and I’ll see them soon,” he whispers as the light leaves Dean’s eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> I could never have gotten this fic off the ground without my lovely betas [malcs](http://archiveofourown.org/users/malcs) and [BeastOfTheSky](http://archiveofourown.org/users/beastofthesky).


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